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(Adriana) Another's Memories
Author: Bill Weasley
Date: 01-11-13 19:27
The setting sun painted the sky orange, pink and purple and heralded what would certainly be a brisk night. Already the day had been quite chilly. The ruined abbey, though more weatherproof than when Adriana had first moved there, remained drafty like Hogwarts had sometimes been.
Under layers of clothing, Adriana perused the news items Ivanova and Serano had brought her. Both had come back to the abbey since their initial visit to bring her news from the outside world and supplies, which Adriana had previously gotten through thievery. She rather liked having others doing her bidding.
Adriana saw nothing of interest and set the newspapers aside for a warm drink, when a memory she was certain was not her own came to the forefront of her mind. She saw a young woman––someone she had known professionally once upon a time. However, the woman wasn't in Hogsmeade where they had first met, or at Hogwarts where they had been colleagues. She was in a lair, cloaked and listening to the bidding of a wizard with a high, cold voice.
"You will spy on the auror," Voldemort said. "Bring me news of her investigations, so that we may ever be one step ahead of what she has planned. Complete your task satisfactorily, and you will be handsomely rewarded. Fail, and you shall not like the end result." Adriana felt as if she were him, seeing the woman standing before him through his own eyes.
The memory changed. Again, the woman stood before her, head slightly bowed and the hood of her cloak set back on her dark hair.
"Bring her to me," Voldemort hissed.
The memory shifted, and there she was, escorting in two prisoners, the auror Voldemort had wished to defeat, and a relative of Albus Dumbledore himself. Adriana could feel her spiritual father's elation. His servant, as he called her, had done well. Very well.
Adriana remembered nothing further, but she reflected on the memories for a time, contemplating their meaning. As day changed to night, she thought she finally understood.
She got up, wrapping herself in one of the luxurious blankets Serano had brought her, and walked to the open air of the cloister. It was much cooler than it had been. Adriana's breath fogged in front of her face. She looked up at the third quarter moon, which provided barely enough lumination by which to see. She stopped by the rose bush and carefully reached inside her robes for the bare skin of her hip, which she prodded with the tip of the Elder Wand.
It did not take long for them to appear, first Ivanova, and then Serano. Though hooded and masked, Adriana recognized them by their physique. Both had brought a friend, as she had instructed them to do. What was more, three additional individuals arrived.
Adriana felt a thrill, much like Voldemort had upon seeing one of his enemies within his clutches at last.
"I should like to know all of you," Adriana announced, "but first, a task for you, Ivanova."
Ivanova stepped forward. "How may I be of service to you?"
Adriana closed the gap between them. "There is someone I would like you to locate."
"Who, my Lady?"
"Christina Sorcha."
(Anthony) Holyhead, Anglesey
Author: Beck
Date: 01-12-13 07:46
A stiff wind blew off the coast, penetrating the fibers of Anthony's clothes and causing him to shiver. He pulled up the collar of his coat and put on a pair of black, leather gloves. He had just apparated to the city of Holyhead in Anglesey to investigate the family Dragonsblood, who had at one time lived in the wizarding part of town.
His records took him to #12 Llanfawr Rd., where stood a semi-detached, red-bricked house with a green door. The house consisted of two stories, with a triple set of windows on each floor. The residence next door, which appeared to share a wall but didn't really, looked identical except for the front door, which was brown.
Anthony approached the green door and knocked. Although the house looked well-kept, he strongly suspected that nobody had lived there in quite some time. After a brief period of time, when Anthony was certain no one would come to the door, he moved to one of the windows and peered through the glass. The curtains, golden-colored Parisian Jacquard, were drawn, but not tightly, allowing Anthony a sliver of a glance into what appeared to be a sitting room.
The room was fully furnished, though white cloth covered everything, indicating that the family had not left in a hurry and that they perhaps intended on returning home someday. Anthony moved to the other windows, but saw nothing more.
"You won't find anybody home," said a raspy voice from the front stoop next door.
Anthony turned and saw an elderly, hunched over wizard leaning on a cane. His eyebrows were white and wild, and his hair, also white, was thin but fully there. Braces held up his trousers.
"I thought as much," Anthony said, moving to greet the old wizard. "Did you know the Dragonbloods well?"
"As well as neighbors know each other," the wizard replied. "We said good morning and good evening and let each other know when we would be gone on holiday, but I cannot say we were friends. Acquaintances at best."
"When did you see them last?"
"Some years ago. Mr. Dragonsblood came by the house the morning the family left to tell me they were going on extended holiday, and would I be so kind as to keep an eye out on things? I said yes, as I always did when they went on holiday. I did not realize that by 'extended holiday' they meant years and not a mere few weeks or months."
Anthony said, "Forgive me. My name is Anthony Beck. I work for the Ministry of Magic."
"I am Uriel Goldstein."
"Mr. Goldstein, might you have a bit of time to answer some questions for me about the Dragonsblood family?"
"Not today," Mr. Goldstein replied, "Here comes my daughter to take me to my healer's appointment."
He looked down the short front walk, and Anthony turned to see a middle-aged witch approaching. Unlike her father, her eyebrows were thin and neatly arched.
"Hi, Dad," the witch greeted, kissing Uriel on the cheek. "Hello," she said to Anthony.
"Hi, Anthony Beck."
"Lindy Lovell," she replied, shaking his hand.
"Mr. Beck has come to ask me questions about the neighbors," Mr. Goldstein explained. "Perhaps you can come back another day?" he asked Anthony directly.
"Yes, of course. I will write to you at the Ministry, care of which Department?"
"Magical Law Enforcement, the Auror Office," Anthony replied.
Lindy's eyebrows rose slightly, but Uriel's reaction didn't change. Like some neighbors were wont to do, he stayed out of the Dragonsblood family's business, but he saw enough to suspect they weren't always on the up and up.
"Very well," Uriel said. "Goodbye for now, Mr. Beck."
"Goodbye," Anthony replied.
Uriel took his daughter's arm, and with a loud crack, they disapparated.
At Work
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 01-12-13 11:33
"Last night, the Kenmare Kestrals overtook the Montrose Magpies, 270 points to 110. The match was not without serious injuries: Eduard Harred of the Magpies took a bludger blow to the head that left him unconscious and took him out of play for the duration of the match. Sources say he has a concussion and remains in hospital. Both Andrew McFarlan of the Magpies and Darren O'Hare of the Kestrals also left the match early. Unable to stem a nosebleed McFarlan sustained after a bludger hit to the face, officials saw to pull him from the match. O'Hare, meanwhile, collided with one of the goal hoops, causing double vision and severe disorientation."
Bronwyn put the parchment she had been reading from on the bottom of her stack and said, "This Saturday, all Hogwarts alumni are invited to visit the school and watch members of the four house Quidditch teams participate in a series of exhibition matches.
"And finally, the Chimaeras and the Griffins face off during the first Quidditch match of the season at St. Emrys University. Tip off is at 11 AM. And that's sports. Tune in on Monday to find out how your favorite teams scored over the weekend."
"Thanks, Bronwyn. Any final words before we sign off this morning?" Bryce Monroe asked his co-host, Milla Tufton.
"On Monday, we'll announce the contest winners for our big Halloween date night event, and we will take owls on your favorite Halloween traditions."
"For everyone here at the Morning Show," Bryce said, "happy Friday the 13th. May your day prove to be a lucky one!"
The Morning Show went off air, and an advertisement for the Witching Hour went on in its place.
"Great show, everyone," Bryce said. "Anyone want to try that new brunch place?"
"I will," Milla said. She looked at Bronwyn. "What about you?"
"Thanks, but no thanks. I brought my own brunch."
Milla shot her a look that suggested, "Suit yourself," and flounced off after Bryce. Bronwyn, meanwhile, went to her desk and peeled a banana. As she nibbled on it, she perused the scheduled Quidditch matches and other sports events taking place over the next three days so that she knew what to talk about on Monday.
The Morning Show crew always had a meeting at the end of the day on Fridays to discuss topics and ideas for next week and beyond. There had already been some discussion on doing a morning concert series, or BreakFest, perhaps beginning in time for the Christmas season. That was still a long way off, but it would be here sooner than later.
"You've got mail," said one of the clerks who worked for the WWN.
"Thanks," Bronwyn said with a friendly smile to the clerk. She took the letter, for a brief moment had a flashback to when she had gotten the unexpected letter from Theodore Nott. She had not yet decided whether she would accept his apology. Everybody she asked told her a resounding "Hell, no!"
But for Bronwyn it wasn't so easy. She had a forgiving nature, and whether it was true or not, Bronwyn felt like Theodore was being sincere.
Maybe he was a good liar, as everyone suggested. But then why write to her at all? What other purpose could he have for contacting her? Nothing else made sense.
She hadn't written him, and she had certainly not gone back to see him. Maybe she would just ignore him, and hope that he left her alone for the rest of her life. She knew it was what everybody else wanted.
She turned her attention to the new piece of mail, but it wasn't from Theodore Nott. It was from Bianca Diamond.
At the Bookstore
Author: Griet
Date: 01-12-13 14:07
Griet entered the campus bookstore and went down the third aisle, going straight to where she had picked up other books required for her Business Accounting class. One of the books on the class list had been out of stock right before the start of term, and Griet, having procrastinated in getting everything before Monday, had found herself out of luck. Fortunately, she had received notification that the book in question had been restocked and wasted no time in purchasing one.
With the book in hand, she turned to go to the registers, when someone stepped into the aisle. Griet stopped short and asked, "What are you doing here?"
Clover tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said, "I was looking for a couple of books."
"Why?" Griet asked. "You don't go here. You can't."
Clover's expression darkened. "Why not?"
"Because you didn't graduate," Griet replied, as if the answer were obvious.
Clover shook her head. "How do you know? You haven't spoken to me in years, Griet, other than to tell me you don't want to see me ever again. Don't think you know what I've been up to since I left Hogwarts. You have no idea."
"You're right. I don't know what your life was like behind bars, nor do I care to hear about it. We can't be friends, Clover. Not ever again."
"I said I was sorry."
Griet blinked. "And I'm supposed to forgive you? You tried to kill my sister! You nearly did!"
Clover wanted to argue that Cornelia's near-death had occurred at a time when Griet hadn't even liked her sister, when the two had been enemies and not the best of friends.
"Look, I know I can't change the past. I can't make you forgive me and see that I'm not the person I was back then. If you don't want to be friends anymore, then fine, we're not friends." Clover hesitated then and looked down at her feet. "I just wish things were different, Griet."
Griet said nothing. She thought back to the day she and Clover had first met on Platform 9 3/4 during their first year. They had been fast friends, the best of friends. All that had changed in an instant, though, and Griet hadn't looked back. Not once.
Griet started moving again, sidestepped Clover, and went to the nearest free register. Clover turned to watch her, looking miserable, and then went in pursuit of the books she wanted.
At St. Emrys
Author: Charlie Weasley
Date: 01-12-13 15:12
As he's done for a number of terms now Charlie is teaching twice a week at St. Emrys. As he's done since that first term the first week to two weeks of new term he's at the university all week rather than splitting time at the MacFusty Hebridean Black Dragon Preserve. This term he's made arrangements to be in his Marjoribanks College office Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of this first week and Monday and Wednesday of next week. Tuesdays and Thursdays he's at St. Emrys for the courses he teaches and for office hours.
His Friday so far has been a morning spent rearranging and reorganizing some things in his office in between signing slips for a few late add-ons and one drop slip. Charlie takes a break, moving to sit at his desk to read over for the third time a report veterinary healer Blythe Mumps from the MacFusty Preserve, veterinary healers from other preserves and others in more specialized fields had recently collaborated on. The mystery of the dead dragons appearing on preserves around the world is still being investigated with few clues so Blythe and the others began conducting more extensive testing, many at the cellular level. The results of the genetic testing have proved interesting, odd, and have provided the first real clue to the seemingly healthy dragons' deaths.
The tests show that there has been mutations along several chromosomes. These are mutations never before observed and in each dragon the mutations differ slightly. The mutations appear to have been the cause of death but studies are still being made as to the exact mechination of death. Blythe is also of the opinion that these mutations are not naturally occurring but are from genetic manipulation by whomever has been dumping the bodies. Questions arising from this include what is the person, or persons, trying to accomplish and why dump the bodies rather than disposing of them by some other method?
Charlie's about halfway through the reread when there's a knock on his open door. "Professor Weasley, do you have a minute?"
Charlie recognizes the young man with an American accent at the door but can't readily place the name. "Yes, come in."
"Pierce Ford," the student enlightens him without Charlie having to ask. "I've been giving some thought to the paper you're requiring. Would the topic of hybrids among dragon species be acceptable?"
"That would depend on where you planned to go with it. If you want to put some ideas in writing, I'd be happy to go over them."
"Thank you. I'll get with you after class next Thursday to arrange a time for that."
"You're very on the ball, Pierce."
"I try to be organized."
Hendrika, who is taking classes again this term, appears in the doorway, the friends she'd walked with waving at Charlie then continuing on. Hen smiles, "Sorry to interrupt. I'll wait out here."
Pierce is already on his feet. "No need. I was ready to leave. Thanks, Professor Weasley. See you next week."
"I look forward to what you come up with, Pierce."
Pierce Ford leaves, offering Hendrika a smile as he passes her. She returns his smile then steps into the office asking, "Ready for lunch?"
"I hadn't even thought about but now you mention it, I'm starving," he chuckles. Coming from around his desk he gives her a more proper greeting before they step into the hall, Charlie shutting the door and locking it. "How has your morning gone?"
"Good, though I still think a certain professor is deadly dull to the point I may drop that class and take it next term under someone else. How has your day been so far?"
"I mainly puttered trying to better organize. One slightly odd note. I was rereading that report Blythe collaborated on, the one that summarizes all the tests she and the others have been doing when that student came in wanting to know if he could do his paper on dragon hybrids. Genetic mutations aren't the same thing as cross species breeding but, I don't know, just struck me strange that there I was reading the report and in comes someone wanting to talk about hybridization."
Hendrika grins, "Better watch it or you'll start putting together theory about how that student is part of whatever is going on with your mystery dragons."
Charlie laughs, "You know, I could do that and write a mysteral novel. I could even ask AJ Hodfuffer for some pointers and to get me in touch with an agent and publisher."
Hen prods him in the ribs. "A third job, just what you need. Fourth really if you consider the time you spend with the band. Now, about lunch, what sounds good?"
They spend the rest of the walk to an exit to the surface discussing possible eateries, ending up deciding to go to a small Wizarding restaurant with a selection of Italian fare that's only a few blocks from the main St. Emrys campus entrance.
Percival the Mischievous
Author: Roisin Rae McCray
Date: 01-12-13 17:07
Roisin quietly walked in Hogwarts' walls. She was thinking on her future before becoming lost in thoughts of her uncle. The night before he had sent the most peculiar letter. He wrote about someone with Snodgrass as a surname. She could hardly remember anything else, as he clearly wrote it in a hurry. Aside from that he made no sense to her, a strange thing for an author. Simply trying to read it was a pain but getting to the meaning was another thing entirely. In the hours between receiving the letter and the current moment she read it more than once, even carrying it with her things. She tried her best to understand it but she just couldn't. Her uncle was a confusing, joking man in general but she suspected that she would need a decoder to discover the meaning.
She felt compelled to again take it out and read it. Giving in to Percival's wish, she let him onto the ground. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded piece of parchment. She slowly opened it, lightly brushing her fingertips on the red McCray seal. It was written seemingly out of her uncle's hands; the hurried look of the lettering clear as day. Nevertheless it was clearly done in his hand, and in his choice of dark red ink. It read:
Dearest Rosie,
Be weary of those named Snograss. Soon you must be expected to fight. Trust no one but yourself. Keep close to yourself. Watch your enemies with a vigilant eye.
Your uncle,
Ailbe McCray
The rest of the parchment had a strange symbol, one that she had never seen before. But what it was in effect was something she could only guess at. She shook her head - again the wording had gotten to her. "What could it possibly mean?" She asked herself, aloud.
"What's got your mind tied?" A familiar voice came from behind her.
Roisin quickly stuffed the letter back into her pocket and turned to see Cassidy. "Nothing...my thoughts just got the best of me."
A meow sounded down at her feet. The tone of Percival's voice was impolitely informing her friend that it was 'none of her business.' The two had never truly gotten along; Cassie had animosity toward cats and Percival hated anyone he didn't trust, and that was everyone. He then gave another meow - one that was in pure annoyance. He took off running. She called his name but he only continued to run. He left her with no choice but to chase after him. She knew that he would make her late to his next class but she couldn't just leave him. They both were still not used to Hogwarts entirely and she feared that he might become lost...or worse.
"Aren't you coming?" She called back to Cassidy.
"No, I'm going to class." Cassidy replied as she turned to walk in the opposite direction.
Roisin continued to chase after her white furred ragdoll, who lead her into a part of Hogwarts that she hadn't yet seen. But Percival was nowhere to be seen. "Percy." She called to him, using his nickname. "Where are you? Come sweetie...let's go. Percy?"
The McCray Blacksheep
Author: Andreva
Date: 01-12-13 18:51
Andreva grumbled after the two Japanese men left her office. She had been negotiating for three months to date and getting nowhere. She was sick of them falling through on the negotiations, to the point of her wanting to cast a Stinging Hex on them both. She was certain that the Japanese didn't wish to better communications with Britain. She started to feel as though she was wasting her time and should give up altogether. Well, it was either that or using certain skills to discover their darkest secret. A secret to use against them, one to assure their agreement on the terms. But no matter how strong the urges to cast the curse and use her skills, she would never be too bold to jeopardize her job. But then again, she did occasionally feel like walking out on it all. But how could she? She couldn't bare to lose her livelihood and her parents' respect. Already it was a strange feeling between them - that is, ever since she was sorted into Slytherin. She was certain that her father hadn't thought the same of her since Hogwarts. A great shame it was to them all. After centuries of being sorted into either Gryffindor and Ravenclaw - but most recently the latter - she was sorted into the house whose members were looked down upon by the McCrays. While her father might say otherwise, she knew it still troubled him. He was a good man whose pride was easily damaged. And she knew deep down that the sorting had hurt him.
She shook the thoughts of her schooldays out of her mind. It would do no good continuing to think on the matter and she needed a break. A long one would be nice, far away from the Ministry and her family. A holiday for one was greatly needed - one perhaps in the Caribbean? Anywhere she could be without any troubling stress. In the long run all she needed was a good drink. Some type of alcohol would do. Whisky would do the job nicely but she knew that would also never happen. She drank only on rare occasions: weddings, birthdays, and funerals. Keeping herself in check was her major priority, as she feared that she would take a liking to having a drink when under stress. That in itself would cause more problems within the family. Her father disapproved of alcoholic beverages, always have and likely always will. Sometimes it infuriated her, all the things that could possibly make him disown her.
She threw down her quill and leaned back in her seat. The reality was, simply put, too hard to handle. The reality was certainly much too infuriating. She wanted to hurl a curse at everyone who had ever put her under stress. She wasn't proud of this want, or rather need, but she couldn't quell it from her mind. She was completely torn from her thoughts when she heard a voice call to her. It was the sound of her assistant Alicia Scholfield, whose desk was across from hers.
"Miss McCray, if I may?" Alicia asked, looking directly to her boss.
"Yes what is it?" Andreva replied, not bothering to hide irritation in her voice. She always got into such bad moods whenever her thoughts turned to her parents as of late. She had displayed this early on to her assistant, who took everything as it was but never personally.
"I know someone who might help you. Release you of your stress, I mean."
Andreva rose a brow. She was intrigued by the statement but took skepticism to it. "What are you getting at?"
"I have a friend, currently in Hogsmeade...you might know him in fact. His name is Adrian Snodgrass. I think he attending Hogwarts when you did."
The familiar name rang in her ears. She did know him. He was the youngest son of Charles Snodgrass, who also was sorted into Slytherin...as all Snodgrasses were. He was her age and if she remembered correctly, he truly lived up to his father's name. Her father would disapprove of a meeting between the two but if he could help her as Alicia said, then she needed to meet with him...and take care not to inform her dear father of the meeting.
"All right," Andreva said, "set up a meeting for us later today."