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(Titus) Getting Ready
Author: Tiberius Nott
Date: 01-19-13 01:58
Titus Nott studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, not liking what he was seeing. His hair was too big for his taste and he just hated the pair of glasses plastered onto his face. He removed them and leaned forward, his nose only inches from the mirror. Yes, he looked way better without his glasses. The problem was he could barely see a thing without them.
Frustrated, Titus put his glasses back on and used his comb to try and make his hair resemble Tiberius'. He had stolen one of his brother's gowns from his closet before going to Hogwarts and he was wearing it now as his Halloween costume.
The sleeves where too long and the fabric fall on the ground like the tail of a wedding dress, but Titus did not mind. One day, he would be as tall as Tiberius and this robe would fit him perfectly. He walked back to his dormitory. There was no sign of Asher Kent or Malden McGonagall, but his friend Anton Avery was just finishing dressing in his costume, one of a medieval wizard.
"Too bad you're not old enough to grow a beard," Titus teased.
"Too bad you can't even cast a spell to make that thing shrink. What's up with that dead animal on your shoulders?"
Titus looked at Anton with irritation. He thought the dark fur collar would be a success. It was one of Tiberius' finest and favourite gowns and one of the reasons Titus had stolen it was exactly because of the fur. He thought it would make him look more intimidating and serious. He wasn't planing on marching into the Great Hall like a silly child wearing a ridiculous costume. But now he was insecure with his choice due to Anton's words. However Titus defended himself:
"This gown had cost a fortune unlike your cheap robes."
"And when was that? Back in the fourteenth century? Because nowadays, no one would pay a thing for that."
"Piss off Avery," Titus replied, walking away from the dorm.
He and Anton would always argue with each other and for some reason Anton would always win. It was like everything Titus had learned at Endhope Abbey under the care of Tiberius and Osky had been wrong. As if his family and his house were trapped in the past while the rest of the world kept moving.
Alone, Titus left the dungeons into the Great Hall, hoping to find some consolation in the food.
All Hallow's Eve
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 01-19-13 16:39
Ethan stepped into the Great Hall dressed as an archer from olden times, complete with a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. The rest of his costume included black boots and breeches, and a brown leather vest over a dark olive green tunic, and gauntlets. The looks thrown his way were not so much because of him, but because of the adorable dragonfly he carried.
Lilly wore a short, shiny seafoam green dress with a tutu-like skirt and bloomers. On her back were two sets of narrow, gossamer wings that were enchanted to flap. Her headband was the same vibrant color of her dress and sported two curly antennae. Now that she was a little bit older, she could appreciate Halloween and took in all the costumes in the Great Hall with great interest. Most captivated her attention, but there were a few that scared the little dragonfly.
Ethan arrived at the Head Table and situated Lilly into a high chair provided for the young children of staff members when they joined their parents for meals in the Great Hall. Before he sat down, he poured her a tiny bit of pumpkin juice, and then set about preparing a plate of food for her to eat.
Not for the first time, Ethan wished that her mother were there to see how she looked. Rosamond had been gone long enough now to miss many holidays, but also all the milestones Lilly had experienced so far in her short life. Lilly could walk, and she could say certain words like "Daddy", and she was at an age where she was really starting to come into her personality.
Although still young, she was also old enough to better sense how her daddy felt on any given day. Ever since Rita Skeeter's explosive article about him, Ethan had felt on edge. It certainly didn't help that he occasionally received hate mail. Most came from perfect strangers, but he occasionally heard from a parent or a relative of one of his students.
He knew what he was and that he shouldn't have to prove himself to anybody, but the attention unsettled him all the same. Ethan was very thankful for Professor McGonagall's continued support and did not envy her position in the slightest. Not only was she deflecting blows against him, but she was also defending Marzipan, another victim of Rita Skeeter's.
He looked at his daughter, who was staring up at the floating Jack-o'-lanterns as she slowly chewed on a piece of a soft, sweetened roll. She sensed she was being watched and turned her head to look at him, smiling and holding out a piece of roll still in her little hand.
Ethan leaned forward and nibbled it from her grasp. Lilly giggled wildly and then picked up a thinly sliced piece of apple, holding it out for Ethan to eat. He shook his head and said, "It's your turn."
And so she put it in her mouth and smiled.
Ethan smiled back and ate from his own plate, truly happy about at least one thing in his life.
Nott's Halloween Feast
Author: Phyllida
Date: 01-20-13 04:35
Seated in a large, threadbare armchair, Nott gazed at the dying fire, resting his chin on his gloved and steepled hands. A quilted smoking jacket was wrapped around his pensive frame. Phyllida, descending the creaking oak steps gingerly, raising clouds of dust with each tentative step, could not shake the strange suspicion that he was conversing with a small, silver box on the side-table.
Endhope was a grim, silent bastion on the moor. Many of its leaded windows were boarded up, as though its inhabitants had abandoned it long ago. Within, the oak panels were veiled in a layer of dust, and coughed up a haze of greyish particles as she stalked past. Part of the house was ruined; the ocean chasm had reclaimed the western wing that once gazed upon the relentless waves.
"Ah. You've decided to join me at last." Nott gestured at the long dining table. "I've prepared a feast for your delectation on this All Hallows' Eve."
Her gaze was drawn towards said feast: a heap of packet-biscuits piled on top of a silver platter, surrounded by cans of tinned peaches and silverware. He had gone to some effort to present the meagre repast in a seemly manner; a haphazard assortment of tarnished candlesticks were lit around the table, yellowed candles dripping gouts of hot wax upon the bare table.
"What happened to your house-elf?" she asked dryly.
He gestured at the silver box sitting between two vases filled with wilting flowers. "My faithful servant Osky," he said, "departed this world not long ago."
"Oh," she mouthed. It certainly explained the state of the house. Most of the furniture was robed in white dust sheets; like old ghosts, they gazed silently upon the scene.
"Sadly, I'm not much of a homemaker," he explained casually. "But I manage to get by. If, however, you do not find your repast satisfying, I can arrange something else for you."
"No, that will be enough" she replied. She sat down at the table, staring at the biscuits.
"What happened to your feline familiar?" Tiberius asked.
"He refused to leave Diagon Alley with me the other night. I returned to find him, but he wasn't there. He's probably gone home."
"I wouldn't worry, love. I'm sure he can take care of himself," he spoke, in some half-hearted effort to comfort her.
His efforts were null. At the moment, Endhope Abbey could not be described as cosy and familiar. Osky's departure had only made the old house more inhospitable. Nott wondered where the elf had put his favourite robe, the one with the fur collar. There was no sign of it in his closet.
"I suppose so," she replied, watching him as he disembowelled a can of peaches with a dinner knife.
He had no appetite, but he wanted to be polite and so he made an effort to take a piece of the peach into his mouth. Tiberius found its taste too sweet for him. The light colour of the fruit did not help, either. They should have been eating a hearty stew, combined with a rich, red wine. Instead, they looked like two Muggles on a camping trip. The thought depressed him, and he quickly crossed his cutlery, ending his frugal meal.
"Why aren't you eating?" Phyllida asked, taking a bite of a biscuit.
"I find have no appetite these days," he replied, a dark look crossing his eyes.
She frowned. "I've never really seen you eat anything." She noticed the depth of the dark shadows under his eyes, the hunched shoulders, the sallow cast to his skin. He looked years older than he was. "Are you...sick?"
Tiberius shrugged his shoulders, a gesture that did not appear to come naturally. Her question made him tense, and his throat felt dry. More than ever he wished for that wine. He tried to relax and forced a smile, exposing his perfect teeth. He had no idea how odd such smile looked in his face. It did not match him at all.
"Indeed, I am a bit under the weather. But please don't be concerned. It's not serious," he told her. "More peaches?"
Phyllida did not reply, and, not able to stand being seated anymore, Tiberius left the table muttering a polite excuse. He moved towards a console in the corner of the room, and poured a small dose of firewhiskey into a glass. He felt her eyes burning on his back, and, without turning around to face her, he took the glass to his lips, ignoring the unpleasant gulping sound coming from his throat as he swallowed the drink.
"Tiberius..." She stood up, moving towards him. She tried to reach for the glass in his hand. "Enough of that. You're not well."
"First a master of wandlore, and now a healer? What other hidden talents do you possess?" His gloved hand pulled the glass away from her, almost in a challenge. He picked up the bottle, ready for a refill.
"Don't be a child." She snatched the bottle from his hand easily – his grasp was unusually weak. "Sit down."
Grudgingly, he obliged her, taking his place before the fire. He was cloaked in weariness; his haggard, fine-featured face brooded quietly. She stood behind him, uncertain of what to do. "Why am I here, Tiberius?"
Glad that the subject had changed and they were not talking about himself anymore, Tiberius' hostility towards her vanished.
"I figured you would ask that sooner or later."
He went to his pocket and handed her a folded letter. The red wax that sealed it had been broken but it was still possible to detect the Grimshaw family crest on it. He looked away into the fireplace, giving her some space as she read the letter that had been addressed to his person.
She fell silent as her eyes scanned the brief correspondence; bewildered, she read it a second time. "My mother sent you after me? As though I am some missing child?" Incensed, she placed the letter on the side table, her hand quivering with anger. She'd been chased through London like a truant schoolgirl— by this grown-up babysitter. "What compelled you to obey her?"
"Certainly not the perspective of having Phyrne Grimshaw-Spore's eternal gratitude." He laughed. "I saw an opportunity in her appeal. Or shall I say demand? I was not a particularly pleased with her tone. In fact, I was about to deny her request. But then I thought we could benefit from each other's company."
"Is that so?" she clipped. 'Well. I'm glad you find me amusing." She scrunched the letter up, and threw it into the fire, where it curled, blackened and smouldered.
"I could use many words to describe you, but amusing would not be one of them."
He stood up from the armchair and approached her, not sure if it was fear he was reading in her eyes. It was common for people to react like that towards him. Most of the time, it was useful, because it kept everyone away and allowed him to be at peace. But today the look in Phyllida's eyes was enough to penetrate the cold armour of indifference he used every day. Tiberius placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. Phyllida flinched, but he did not let go.
"You're no longer a child and I am not at your mother's service. I'm no one's puppet. Yes, it was wrong of me to stalk you, and to even appear in your life again without a warning. But I needed to see for myself."
"See what?"
"If you would care enough to help me. Others said they would, but they turned their backs to me. I needed to be sure you wouldn't. And, of course, I will help you in return. I don't like to owe anything to anyone."
"What could I possibly help you with?" she asked quickly. Her soft brows were crossed with mistrust.
He hesitated; an indescribable heaviness came over his grey eyes. He gazed down, rubbing the cuff of one glove with his hand.
She had long suspected the reason for him keeping those leather gloves on his hands, indoors and out. Kneeling before him, she took his right wrist, and carefully peeled the glove off his hand. It was very white, she thought; the blue veins stood out against the vellum of his skin like rivulets of ink. It was a hand, soft, long-fingered, pensive, but very regular in other ways. She frowned, her theory disproven.
Tiberius lifted her chin with his bare hand; she looked into his eyes, which glittered with a hard-edged amusement. He pulled her in by the waist; she heard the echoed the warnings of childhood fairy tales in her mind, but she was utterly transfixed. She allowed herself to be seated in his lap like a child, her legs dangling off his knees.
His naked hand worked away the glove off his left. A line of purplish black, the colour of congealed blood, ran down the hard, blue vein of his wrist. As more of the hand was revealed, she saw that the line curled like a strangling vine around his palm. He did not say a word; she could not even look at his eyes. She pushed up his sleeve - the black trail only grew wider as it travelled up his arm, snaking around his flesh, polluting his veins with inky darkness.
He was silent as her hand traced down the collar of his robe, pushing the soft, quilted silk aside to reveal that which she newly suspected and abhorred. The poisoned tendrils had worked their way up his collarbone, and begun their foray into the region of his neck; his black veins thudded, engorged, as their neared his heart. The blight upon his heart was evidently the origin of the mark; the flesh over it was warped and scarred, and as dark as blood pooled under moonlight.
"Oh, what have you done?" she lamented, her voice quavered with dejected shock. Out of pity, her arms went around his neck, and she laid her head in the crevice of his shoulder.
He was not used to this type of human contact. When had been the last time he'd had someone near him like this? Instead of repelling her, Tiberius sank even further into the role of victim. She smelled like lilies, the exact same fragrance he felt some years ago in the Hogwarts dungeons during a Potions class and that he had refused to share with the rest of the elements of his class. In his opinion, what one experienced while smelling an Amortentia potion was private.
His bare hands felt the fabric of her robes and he felt almost free. The heavy leather gloves were like shackles he carried every day, a reminder of his fate.
"The higher you climb the mountain of power and immortality, the bigger the fall. I don't recall anyone reaching the top and yet I was so close...I thought I could make it."
She pulled away, looking into his eyes. She wished she could chastise his foolishness and rub in the moral of his tale; but at the same time, she wished she could soothe his regret. He was like a poor, lonely beast, keeping himself caged.
Her hand touched his cold, stubbly cheek; his eyes seemed to plead her mercy. "I'll help you," she said, watching relief flood his face. Suddenly, he felt more familiar to her than her own family. She cradled his weary head in her hands, and touched her lips to his.
At last… part of him thought, as they kissed. He had believed that side of him was dead long ago, but now Tiberius discovered it was still very much alive. It just had been numb, waiting for the right moment to emerge again. However, another voice sounded in his head. You fool! She is just doing this because she pities you.
Before he could decide which side he should give in to, his mind registered a furious tap on the window. She must had heard it too because her head moved away and their lips parted.
"Ptolemy!"
Phyllida almost ran towards the window and let the grey cat enter, picking him up and holding him tenderly in her arms. Tiberius found himself feeling jealous of her pet and the way he consumed her full attention. The intruder had spoiled the moment, and, briefly, he felt sorry that he did not keep any hounds in the house like his great-grandfather Cantankerus.
Dressing Up
Author: Roisin Rae McCray
Date: 01-20-13 10:43
Roisin sunk onto her bed and began tugging at the ribbons that held together the parcel. Last week she had asked her aunt to go out and purchase a fairy costume for the Halloween Feast. When it had originally arrived for her usage, she threw the parcel under her bed - it took great strength for her to keep it wrapped up until the ancient holiday. And now that it finally Halloween, she spared no pause in opening it. She gasped at what she saw. Certainly this was the most extravagant costume she had ever seen; but she would have to get used to wearing elegant clothing. Now she was a complete McCray and wealth naturally came with it. Certainly her uncle could spare nothing less, as she now had the power to strengthen or damage the family name. And from what she heard about the Snodgrass rivalry, she had no choice but to perform her best.
First she picked up a blue mask to cover the top half of her face made from felt that was adorned with diamonds trailing the edges. She gently laid it on her bed and immediately Percival cautiously approached it, sniffing it and eventually giving it a little lick. Then she took out light blue shoes that had little stubs for the heels. She put them just below the mask of which Percival was now pawing. She then pulled out the wings made of white lace and outlined in blue. She laid it down on the bed next to the mask and shoes. The little ragdoll turned his attention to the wings. He seemed to be enjoying himself as she reached in and pulled out the final item, the dress. She held it up to her body. It was made of light blue satin with white lace trailing and the hem landed just below her knees. Not wishing to cause damage to it, Roisin carefully put it on and followed with the wings. She picked up her brush and began to stroke her blonde curls with it.
At that moment the door to the room opened.
"Hey," Cassidy said. "You look nice."
"Thanks." Roisin replied. "Should I keep my hair down or let it up?"
"Hmm...let's see." She took a hard look. Roisin showed Cassidy her hair down and then lifted it up. "Down."
Roisin took her friend's word and left it down. She then picked up the mask against the wishes of Percival, who gave a little meow in irritation. She sat on the bed and put on her shoes, looking once to her friend who had put on her own fairy costume. They had decide to match, however, Cassidy's costume was pink. She opened her mouth and asked:
"Ready?"
"Yes. I do say, we both look absolutely ravishing."
Halloween Party
Author: Maggie Hawthorne
Date: 01-20-13 13:08
Ten days ago Nate and I had spent some time talking and had met for lunch and just to hang out a couple of times since then and talked Quidditch and footie alike, though we followed different teams for both. I was a Foulmouth Falcons and Puddlemere fan, and for footie I was a Manchester United fan as well as a supporter of a couple of teams in Sydney. I assure him that there would be no pimples or boils or jinxes if our teams played and mine lost, but there would be some gloating if mine won.
Thankfully I'd gotten the night off, otherwise I would have had a serious fit. Considering that I'd managed to convince Nate to come with me to Connie's apartment for the Halloween party that she was having.
We met at the cafe and I offered him a smile. "Hey you."
I was dressed as a pirate wench, short little frilled skirt, thigh high boots, ripped fishnet stockings and a cinched bodice and corset. I'd even added a pirate hat with my hair in loose curls around my features.
"Hey! You look great Maggie." He said with a smile. "Ready to go?"
I frowned when I saw that he wasn't dressed up. "Aww, you didn't dress up." I nodded and hooked an arm around the one he offered me. "Yup. Connie's isn't far from here and fair warning don't be surprised if some of my co-workers think we are a couple, it's bound to happen."
"Why?" Nate's simple question was one word and it made me smile.
"Because I'm coming to a party with a handsome guy, and everyone knows that I've been single for a while now and I think Connie was on the verge of setting me up with her brother if I didn't start dating sooner or later. Not that this is a date, but people may think that you and I are dating."
The walk to Connie's was short because we kept talking about a handful of different things including Quidditch, footie, and work. Soon enough, I knocked on Connie's door and she let us in. There was music filling the apartment and already there were well over a dozen and a half people there and from the looks of it we were going to be the last to arrive.
"Hey Maggie! Welcome! Come on in, make yourself at home. There is food and drinks and if you are so inclined there are some beers in the ice chest next to the table."
Connie flicked her gaze to Nate and smiled. "And, more importantly, who is your friend?" The look she gave me was definitely one that said I'd been holding out on her when it came to potential new beau.
"Connie, this is my friend Nathaniel from my days at school. He's opted to work instead of going to uni. Nate, this is my good friend and nosey coworker Connie."
She huffed and grinned before turning her attention to Nate. "Well, pleasure to meet you Nate, what exactly are you dressed up as?"
Connie was dressed as a fairy, and there were a scattering of slutty witches, wizards, vampires and even a mummy and a couple of gag costumes milling about the apartment.
"Well! Have fun!"
We headed into the party and grabbed a couple of drinks and fell into a conversation about footie with a couple of my coworkers. I wondered if Nate was having a good time, I really hope he was.
(Annabelle) Little Crime Fighter
Author: Desdemona Diamond
Date: 01-20-13 14:56
"Wolfie? Where did you go?" Annabelle asked up the stairs. The toddler had run up stairs over twenty minutes ago and had not reappeared. Wesley walked up to her, and helped her get her coat on.
"Found him!" Bianca called out from one of the back rooms.
"Are you ready?" Wesley asked.
"Just waiting on the little one," She replied with a smile, "Are you sure you're ok with Wotan and I being alone?"
"The worst has already happened. Besides, you won't be alone. Wolfie will be there."
"Speak of the devil, "Bianca said from the top of the stairs. She started down the stairs, holding Wolfie's hand to keep him from bolting again. "He was hiding in Desi's closet."
"Batcave!" Wolfie corrected, "It's my Batcave!" The toddler had decided to be Batman for Halloween and was happy he got to wear the costume all day. It had been decided that Wolfie would go trick-or-treating in England. Because of the time difference, he'd be able to run around and get his candy, and still be in bed on time.
"Ok Batman, you ready to go?" Wesley asked when Wolfie had reached the bottom of the stairs."
"YEAH!"
Annabelle turned to Bianca, "Bee, we'll be gone a few hours…"
"I won't burn the house down," Bianca interrupted, "Promise." After another few goodbyes, Bianca had the house to herself.
That Was Then, This Is Now
Author: Rowan Westwick
Date: 01-20-13 15:22
Nobody had attended the Halloween Feast in fancy dress when Rowan had first attended Hogwarts. Back then, they had worn their plain school robes and sat quite orderly at their respective house tables. Many of the decorations were the same, however, such as the flying bats, floating pumpkins, and drifting ghosts.
When Beatrix had first asked Rowan what she would wear to the Halloween Feast, she'd had no idea. After giving it quite a bit of thought, however, Rowan had decided she would dress as somebody from 1980, the last year she had lived (at least partially) before her family's curse.
Unfortunately, all of the old clothing that had remained at Westwick Grove during her long absence had fallen victim to pests like moths. Nearly all of it had been thrown out, and the few salvageable pieces weren't anything she could use for her fancy dress idea.
Rowan had eventually written to Elgiva and inquired after something suitable to wear. Elgiva, in turn, had made a few inquiries of her own, and eventually, on the advice of a friend, had gone to a Muggle costume shop, where she'd selected an over the top, 80s style workout outfit.
Rowan felt a little self-conscious in the pale pink leotard, purple tights, pink legwarmers, sweatband, and trainers, if only because the outfit was skin tight and didn't leave much to the imagination. But, she was all covered up and layered to some extent and therefore hoped not to draw criticism from the teachers.
So far, so good. Many of her classmates questioned her costume, not quite understanding why she had made up her face with lots of blue eyeshadow and what the significance was of her side ponytail. Answering the same questions over and over again made it easier for Rowan to forget about her concerns over the biographical timeline she had turned in during History of Magic class just yesterday, or the fact that she had finally confessed everything to Beatrix prior to doing so.
Beatrix had been suitably shocked but surprisingly accepting. She'd asked a few questions but had not made a big deal about it, which had made Rowan feel so much better and hopeful that when others found out, they would have the same reaction.
She glanced over at the Slytherin table, where Willow was seated next to Amorica Wenlock, the River Troll. Willow wore the fancy dress the Finches had brought with them when they'd visited for Homecoming. She had decided to dress up as a mummy, only she wasn't a very scary one. Willow wore a long-sleeved dress made of strips of white rags and matching stockings. Loose threads hung here and there, making it seem like she might unravel completely over the course of the evening.
Rowan turned back to her plate and speared a piece of sausage with her fork. One thing hadn't changed over the years. The food at the Halloween Feast was still delicious!