Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

[honeycoves]

MOOD: Nervous, tired

OUTFIT: some variation of the Durmstrang uniform that is not a full fur coat. Red blazer, black polo, dark brown pants.

LOCATION: infirmary

two

INTERACTIONS: Naomi

MENTIONS:

two

TAGS:
Sanctuaryforall1

two

TL;DR: Returns to the infirmary after spending half the night there, concerned about his new friend.

two

PIPER

Fuck. Piper had hoped, in some way, that Naomi would've had some recollection of what had happened. His heart nearly fell out of his chest when she said the last thing she remembered was him leaving her, guilt stabbing sharply in his chest at the reminder that he had left her when she needed him most. His head dropped below his shoulders and his hands found his face. He could only hear one thought: oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He rubbed his eyes roughly. Okay, maybe a second thought: fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. She had no idea! She had no idea. Just searching for the right words made him feel ill. He was going to be physically ill.

He didn't have to look at Naomi to feel the stress radiating off of her. If she'd said anything, he didn't hear her. His reaction was clearly unsettling. Under better circumstances, he was a little better at tempering his emotions. Well. Marginally. He could at least swallow them. He ran his hands through his hair, attempting to tame the franticness he felt. Breathe. He reminded himself. Given the sensitivity of the situation, he needed to calm down. He needed to act more casually. If the entire hospital witnessed him losing his mind, he'd be putting Naomi into even more danger. He couldn't do that to her. He hardly knew her, and he already felt like he owed her so much.

The teen boy pulled a seat up to Naomi's hospital bed and sat. He rubbed his hands on his thighs for a moment, considering exactly what he was going to say and do. He needed to handle this delicately. He leveled his gaze, searching Naomi's deep brown eyes for any signs that she could be lying. She could be lying in order to save herself. She could be a malicious murderer, who killed the giant in cold blood. She could be lying now to see if he knew anything, to see if he'd rat on her, to see if she needed to take care of him next. He looked away. He knew none of that could be true. It just wasn't possible. Another unfortunate trait of being a seer: he often already knew the answers.

He looked back to the girl, hesitating for just a moment longer. He tentatively reached out for her hand, clasping it firmly in his own. "Naomi..." He started, looking down at their conjoined hands. His voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. "Naomi, something bad happened last night. Something really bad." He glanced up at her, carefully selecting the next words. "After I left last night—" he resisted the urge to physically wince "—I- I heard this scream coming from your direction. I came running back, and when I got to you, you were unconscious." He thought about stopping there. About letting her believe that nothing had really happened and he was a drama queen. About letting her live in bliss. About taking the time to mentally prepare himself to take the fall. He could probably cut himself a deal, as a minor and a seer. He could agree to working for the ministry in some sort of espionage, dropping out of school and trying to hone his abilities to find pertinent investigative information. But he knew he owed her the truth. He couldn't protect her from what she didn't know.

After a much too long pause, Piper squeezed Naomi's hand. His voice was even quieter. "You weren't alone. I found that Mahoutokoro boy, the giant one, with you." His chest constricted, finding it difficult to get the words to leave his body. They were sticking in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He leaned in closer. "Naomi, he was dead." He didn't know what to expect from her. Thus far, she had been a sweet, angelic figure. Almost too airy and saccharine to be real. In a way, he half expected her to melt into a puddle that could no longer be perceived as a being with form. He half expected her to fly off the handle into a rage. He had really only known her for a few hours, he couldn't possibly know anything real about her. You might've thought he'd have a vision with the exact outcome, but he did not, and could only watch.

As the moment dawned on Naomi, he knew he couldn't be done. He needed to know if she knew what had happened. "Do you really not remember anything?" He pressed, looking at her deep brown eyes intently. He was searching for some sign of recognition or realization on her face. When he couldn't find the sign he was looking for, he swallowed hard and then he spoke again. "You killed him." Her shock doubled as she looked at him, and he could only imagine that her heart was pounding twice as fast as his was. He began speaking quickly, trying to use every second he could before she freaked out, left, or accused him of being a liar and a freak.

He leaned so far out of his chair, he was practically kneeling on the floor, and he gripped her arms near the elbows in an earnest plea.

"I didn't see it happen, and I know it sounds crazy, but I know it was you. I don't know how I know, I just do. I— I had a bad feeling, so I didn't tell anyone. I cast the flare charm on his wand, so maybe someone could come find him. I have this awful, awful feeling about what happened. Something's wrong. Like more wrong than what's already happened. I don't know how I know that, I just do." He looked to her face, frantically, hoping that she wasn't going to toss him out and report him as beign the murderer. He loosened his grip on her. "Naomi, please, you have to trust me."

sometimes i act like i know
but i'm really just a kid
with two corks in his eyes
and a bully in his brain

code by valen t.

 

[Aviator]

Chahaya “Cha-Cha” Arif // “Dysfunctional Ex-Con” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
​

The events of the past day flooded over Cha-Cha like a strong drink as he teetered to the library, pain lancing through his leg if he walked too briskly. Clara Winters’s hair gusting around her face as she recognized him on the caboose of the train, her garnet lips forming a little round O of surprise. The circle of jewel-tone dresses and stoic suits as the professors of Ilvermorny huddled around a table at the Opening Ceremony, stealing glances at him as they took delicate sips from champagne flutes. Reminiscing over long-ago Quidditch games with Kazimir, exchanging cursory nods with Einar as they pretended not to know each other, Amity Monroe’s apparent horror when Cha-Cha had flippantly (and drunkenly) finished one of her sentences for her verbatim. Telling Lisandro that sometimes the only way to fight fire was to actually light one on an enemy’s turf, and sending Bellini’s suite up in flames. Any one of them could have been Chitrita’s confederate, hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike. It would be far from the first attempt on Cha-Cha’s life, but it would be the first—excluding two attempts in Azkaban, one time with a shank fashioned from a toothbrush and the other with a poisoned bowl of broccoli cheddar soup—that he didn’t have his powers to defend himself.
His thoughts lingered on Clara Winters for a moment, and a dash of guilt seeped through him. Naturally, had he done nothing, he would have been the first suspect for a mysterious case of arson committed in the wee hours. But he’d taken care to cover his tracks. The magical map she had created, loaded with both her DNA and her wand’s spellwork—which she and Ricky had allegedly created together, but Cha-Cha knew in his heart that his student was neither ingenious enough to come up with such an idea nor a strong enough spellcaster to execute it—had been abandoned at the scene of the crime, as if its creator had been in a haste to flee and simply forgot it. Among the international faculty and likely that of Ilvermorny as well, there was no shortage of former Aurors, and Cha-Cha wondered how long it would take them to bring young Clara to the forefront of the investigation and what the consequences would be for her when they did.
It had to happen, he reasoned to himself. She knew too much of my work, and if she actually understands it, there’s half a chance she’s a Legilimens as well, or could grow to become one. And a teenager with no compunctions about poking around in other people’s heads is the last thing I need to contend with right now. It was bad enough that Bellini had dredged up a memory of Lestari, one of Cha-Cha’s former patients, that had caused him to become hot and bothered at the dinner table. Lestari, who had died eight months later in the demolition of a black-ops laboratory in Jakarta that experimented on children with Obscuruses. Lestari, whom Cha-Cha would lay awake at night and imagine a hundred different ways of proposing to, back when he was young and dumb and believed in love.
His gaze shot up at a flicker of movement. Cha-Cha’s heart clenched briefly at the unexpected appearance of another wanderer, startled that he hadn’t sensed the psychic signature of someone only a few paces off before remembering that, at the moment, such an ability was beyond him. The thought that he was bound by the meager mortal senses of sight and sound made him feel unaware and easily killable. The next thought that occurred to him was that he recognized this wanderer. A cleft chin nestled in a square jaw and heavy brows sheltered deep-set eyes. The Hogwarts champion’s broad shoulders gently oscillated from side to side as he walked, like some prowling jungle creature, yet he looked strangely plain in a textured gray sweater. Upon seeing Cha-Cha, the tall boy’s face abruptly emptied itself, any emotion wiped away like rain-fog from a windowpane. Cha-Cha was content to give him a nod in passing and continue on his merry way to the library, but to his surprise, the student addressed him by name and drew to a stop in front of him. Like a bouncer preparing to bounce an underaged patron, the boy’s chest seemed to expand and he rooted himself in the middle of the hall with a wide stance, so that Cha-Cha would have to slide along the wall to get past him.
Cha-Cha nudged the low brim of his fedora back so that he could meet the teenager’s eyes, and renewed his appreciation for the fact that when Lis was around, he felt comparatively tall. Chitrita had mentioned receiving a sizable payout for her services, so naturally he’d assumed that it was a professor or at least an adult in a position of authority behind his sabotage. But between the flat way the Hogwarts boy was looking at him and a looming posture that wasn’t quite threatening but wasn’t far from it, Cha-Cha was ready to draw his wand on a hair trigger. The constant paranoia was making his stomach twist, and he anxiously wondered how much longer he’d have to wait until the tranquilizers kicked in.
Nonetheless, he grinned at the Hogwarts boy, looking at him warmly and intently. Legilimency or not, it was habitual for Cha-Cha to play with people, and one of his favorite ways to do that was to meet hostility with a cloying degree of friendliness. He paid attention to people when they talked and typically didn’t have to feign his interest. “You can call me Chahaya,” he said graciously. It had been his only name until the age of nine, when his mother had married his stepfather and he’d adopted the patronym, which was the closest equivalent to an actual surname for many individuals of West Java. “After you helped save my life last night, I suppose that makes us pretty good friends, no?” he said cheerily, unable to resist goading this blatantly antagonistic kid a little. “It’s Theodore, right?” Cha-Cha pronounced the foreign name with a d at the beginning and several r’s trilling into each other.
Standing in place had put undue stress on his ankle, and as if alluding to last night’s injury had provoked it, Cha-Cha gave a little wobble in his heeled boots. Theodore noticed and asked about it, which Cha-Cha suspected was a subtle taunt disguised as an inquiry of well-being. “It’s feeling much better now,” he replied, which was perfectly true, given that the bottom quarter of his leg was no longer swollen and red and exploding with pus. “The healers were astonished at the speed of my recovery. I think they expected I would be in the infirmary at least until tomorrow, but Miss Sinclaire stopped the spread of the venom before it damaged much else. All in all, I was extremely lucky. Thank you for asking!” he cooed, as if Theodore had come to visit his hospital bedside with an armload of flowers. “Although in retrospect, I don’t think my current footwear was the best choice,” he added ruefully, looking up from under his fedora.
Theodore’s eyes were as cold as a demon’s kiss, as if this development disappointed him but he was marginally too polite to say so. Sensing the beginning of an uncomfortable lull, Cha-Cha asked, “Isn’t class in session now?” He tilted his head and looked at Theodore shrewdly. “...But I suppose your first class doesn’t start until this afternoon, otherwise you’d already be there, right?” he lied conveniently for the Hogwarts boy, grinning. Back when he was a student, Cha-Cha had been no stranger to tardy marks, but he’d only ever skipped class outright when it conflicted with his work schedule at the stable. He’d been an exception to the rule in that the entire cost of his tuition had been waived on account of a unique skill set and an inability to pay for it, and he hadn’t wanted to give Koldovstoretz’s administration excessive reason to change its mind.
And then, an idea lit in his head like a struck match. Theodore had been together with Chitrita when they’d followed Vasu’s trail of destruction to the first-floor music wing where his snake had bitten Cha-Cha. According to Chitrita’s narrative, Theodore had also been there when Cha-Cha was deposited at the infirmary. Even if he wasn’t the saboteur who had cut the deal with Chitrita, there was an affiliation between them. He might know something about who or why or how it had happened. If Theodore wasn’t intending to go to class anyway, then Cha-Cha felt minimal guilt about suggesting he skip it grandly. After all, what better time to pick his brain? Without his powers, he’d have to get his answers the old-fashioned way: talking over copious amounts of alcohol. Just like the many undercover jobs he’d done to lighten his sentence.
“Say, Theodore,” he said with an impish grin. “Is it all right if I call you that?” Without waiting for him to respond, Cha-Cha continued, “If you have a couple of hours before your first class, what do you say we go exploring the local area? I could use a chaperone to make sure I don’t fall, and you could use a toast to celebrate your championship, I’m sure. My treat, of course. You don’t mind if we get an early start on the day, do you?” His smile broadened. Yes, Cha-Cha’s sole purpose for the suggestion was getting the English boy drunk so that he might divulge conspiratorial secrets. Not at all because he was craving a drink at half-past nine in the morning.

 

[irregular-neptune]

• Lis
• Ramona
• Kaz

• 
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  lisandro valencia

  castelobruxo champion
  
  

  A

  s Professor Einar spoke before class started, Lis stared down at his History of Magic textbook, hoping that class would start (and end) without much of a hitch – there had been way too much chaos already for Lis, and this was the first official day. History of Magic wasn’t one of his favorite classes, but he was good at remembering and regurgitating information, though the latter part was the worst part of the class. Being called on made him shiver, though he wasn’t shy of raising his hand if he knew the answer – the being put on the spot is what made him nervous, made his mind into a blank slate that he couldn’t pull the answers from.
  
  Plus, it didn’t help that this classroom’s acoustics were messing with his hearing aids. Though imbibed with magic, even sound itself couldn’t be harnessed completely, by wizards or muggles. He could mess with them, change the frequency as much as he wanted, but sometimes things were still hard to hear. Especially as far back as he’d sat in the classroom… he wished he’d paid attention, saw that class hadn’t quite started yet, and sat a bit closer.
  
  Now, he was rooted to the spot. Once he sat down he couldn’t move again, it would be weird, he could feel people’s eyes on him already and he didn’t want to draw further attention to himself. Plus, Professor Einar had finally begun to speak. He could somewhat hear him, but what he did hear was the aftermath of the collision of two students near the door and turned towards them. One of them was a student from Beauxbatons and the other, a boy he hadn’t seen yet before. As he watched, the boy dropped a textbook on the girls foot and Lis couldn’t help but feel bad.
  
  If it were him running straight into a girl and then trying to make it better by handing her her books back and he dropped it instead, he wouldn’t be able to let himself live it down. He would agonize over it later, watching the memory on repeat. So he felt empathy for the boy, just about until he asked “Are you sorry?”
  
  Well… kind of a rude response, in Lis’s opinion, and he wondered if this guy was rude or just a bit strange… Either way, his attention was directed back to Professor Einar, as he addressed the pair’s collision and continued with class. Lis could hear most of it, missing only a couple words here and there, and was enrapt by what Einar was saying.
  
  Then, Einar opened his old book and an eruption of color and figures surrounded them, history literally leaping off of the page and dancing around the classroom, figures zooming over their heads and between desks, painting a picture of a colorful past – and actually making the events in their textbook seem interesting. Then, he opened the floor to the students and Lis sunk down in his seat – he liked muggle history more and though he knew enough about wizarding history, he wasn’t quite ready to speak up in class.
  
  He fidgeted with the papers of his open textbook, fluttering the corner of the pages nervously as the student with a shaved head who’d run into the Beauxbaton’s girl spoke, talking about Dark Arts. Lisandro was used to hearing about Dark Magic, Aurors and criminals being a common dinner time topic around his family. That was why he even somewhat recognized who Einar was – his father admired the old man and would often regale the dinner table about his feats. But he wasn’t used to other students dropping information about them so casually, so he stared at the boy, trying to figure out what his deal was. Being from Durmstrang was enough, perhaps, but his swiftness in volunteering the answer almost made him seem enthusiastic about it.
  
  Lis bit his lip, considering an answer or not – he was a champion, at a new school with mostly new people, and he wanted to represent his school well. Perhaps this was the year that he should start speaking up and stop hiding… but he didn’t know how to follow up the other students answer, so he quietly resolved himself to raise his hand for the next question the professor asked.
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  location:

  History of Magic Classroom

  
  
  
  
  

  interaction:

  none, VERY open

  
  
  
  
  

  feeling:

  nervous

  
  

  sugar coded ♡
• 
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  ramona bunker

  ilvermorny secondary
  
  

  A

  s her companions took their seats next to her, Professor Chimere ceremoniously opened a big burlap bag, launching an impressively gigantic set of scales and wings over the students. Ramona’s jaw dropped as she looked at the giant dragon, with its piercing eyes and looming presence – a mind boggling choice for the first day. Honestly, they weren’t part of usual Ilvermorny fare, but it was a very different year, one that would cause expectations for an intensive lesson such as this. Still, seeing how the Hebridian Black towered over them even then, Ramona was thankful they hadn’t sat down in the front row. Images of her being burnt to a crisp appeared in her mind and she shuddered as she looked down at her notebook open in her lap.
  
  Thankful that Vasu had been called on and not her, Ramona made themself look a little smaller so they wouldn’t be called on next. They enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures as a class, but she was awful at remembering the actual facts from the textbook. She wracked her brain just so that she could answer if Professor Chimere were to happen to call on her, especially with the curtness with which she handled Vasu’s answer. The French professor seemed harsh, especially as she magically snatched a student up and sent them back into the castle. Ramona was glad that they didn’t go to Beauxbatons.
  
  As the newly-released baby dragon traveled around the amphitheater, Ramona awed at it. The cute little thing struggled to get up the stairs, truly showing how much of a baby it was. As it approached the top, the boy next to her pulled up his legs, but she leaned toward it, looking at its little scaly face and curious eyes as it looked over them and chuffed.
  
  Shortly after, another boy slipped into the amphitheater and Vasu began speaking to him – and though they couldn’t hear much, Ramona vaguely heard the words professor and batshit. They wondered if it was the wisest decision to open a conversation with that in front of said professor, especially as a champion. But as they weren’t a champion themself, they supposed there wasn’t much they could say to him. Especially as the professor’s head snapped their way, asking Vasu what he was mumbling under his breath.
  
  Then, the answer that came out of his mouth was truly wild. What kind of professor would call a dragon inherently evil? What mythologies was this kid even talking about? Plus, why was a transfiguration teacher talking about dragons? Ramona dubiously looked over at the professor standing next to Chimere in the center and wondered if he was the professor Vasu was talking about… if so, why exactly had he been chosen to represent their school, with such wild beliefs?
  
  Ramona didn’t have much time to ponder this, as she saw in her periphery a shakily floating note approaching her. As she turned her head, they saw Mey with her wand out, pointing at the note and gasped, quickly snatching the note out of the air and begging that the professor hadn’t seen it – after all, after Vasu’s answer, she had glanced away to enact her torture on a different student… but there was still a nonzero chance that she saw, and Ramona tucked the note away in her notebook and stared straight ahead, not daring to read it in class.
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  location:

  Care of Magical Creatures classroom

  
  
  
  
  
  

  interaction:

  Mey honeycoves

  
  
  
  
  

  feeling:

  scared, hopeful

  
  

  sugar coded ♡
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  kazimir vinogradov

  koldovstoretz professor
  
  

  K

  az mostly hung back during the class, examining Angelique and leaning against a column at the back of the amphitheater stage. He wasn’t a dragon hater by any means, they were just much larger than him and made him a tiny bit nervous. Especially since magical creatures weren’t really his forte… though he wished he knew more about them, getting his head snapped off by a dragon during class wouldn’t be the way he’d like to go about it.
  
  When Angelique released the little dragon, it snapped at his feet before moving onto the students, causing him to jump a bit, embarrassingly as the dragon was tiny and couldn’t do much to hurt the man, but it’s little teeth were sharp and it made him a bit nervous. Even a bite to the ankle wouldn’t have been very pleasant.
  
  Kaz glanced up at Vasu as he was called on, quietly hoping his flippant student knew the answer – and would actually answer it accordingly. It was… an okay answer, and Kaz made a note to drop by the Care of Magical Creatures class at Koldovstoretz to check on what they were learning. Perhaps dragons weren’t Professor Ignatyev’s strong suit. Kaz would definitely need to do some research, especially if Angelique thought that dragons would be involved in the tournament in a way major enough to begin her lessons with them.
  
  He watched as a couple students filed in a bit late and glanced back at his own – Vasu whispering to the boy who sat only a row below him and covering up what he said with a sickly sweet answer, one Kaz was familiar with enough to know that it meant I’m covering up being rude and almost sighed, knowing that Vasu tended to mumble rude things when he was displeased with you – Kaz’s classroom wasn’t as sizable as the amphitheater and the students sat much closer.
  
  Kaz cringed a bit at the disappointing professors line, though he hoped Angelique hadn’t meant it as a snide comment towards him – after all, any disappointment she’d felt wasn’t at his hands, his expertise certainly didn’t lie with the creatures that inhabited the earth, magical or not. He didn’t have much time to dwell on those thoughts, as Angelique asked the three students she’d already called on a question, then swiftly levitated a student into the air and then sent them running out of class. He hid his bemused look behind his hand as he rubbed his face, unsure if he was impressed or intimidated by the fierce young woman. She had to be younger than him and yet… she seemed to command the classroom with more dominion than he’d ever have.
  
  Vasu was the first of the addressed students to speak up and for some reason was already starting meaningless contention by bringing Kaz up and completely making up stories about what Kaz had taught last semester. He hoped that Angelique didn’t believe his student – for gods’ sake, he was a Transfiguration teacher, why would he be teaching about dragons? Kaz didn’t like to step on the toes of the other professors – he wouldn’t even answer questions in class that didn’t fall in line with his expertise.
  
  Kaz’s cheeks grew hot in embarassment, though he tried not to show it, knowing his instigator of a student was likely looking for a reaction. He did feel the eyes of all of the students on him now suddenly, even if they weren’t looking at him. He was teaching long enough now that being up here, in front of them all shouldn’t make him nervous, but he usually wasn’t being accused of such a glaring lie. When Angelique glanced his way, Kaz awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Would she even believe him if he told her that his student was lying, or would it make it seem worse?
  
  He hadn’t even recovered from Vasu’s treachery before he saw Halime, sitting next to Vasu, start levitating a note to a student he’d never seen before on the other side of Vasu. The note lifted in the air and hovered for just a few moments and Kaz worriedly glanced to see if Angelique was looking – Vasu may have been being a nuisance at that moment, but he liked Mey as a student and didn’t want her to be dismissed from class so soon on the first day. She was always a bit… easily distracted, but she was a sweet kid and did not deserve to be snatched up or called out in front of the whole class.
  
  So… Kaz improvised and started to do the first thing he could think of… he started coughing, choking seemingly on air, trying to draw the attention of the other professor away from the students before she could see anything. He leaned over with his hands on his knees while coughing, pretending that he was struggling and needed help. After just a couple seconds, he looked up as the other student snatched the note out of thin air and slowed his coughing fit, rubbing his nose and apologizing, hoping he’d distracted Angelique enough that she didn’t see the exchange – and also didn’t think of him as a bumbling idiot.
  
  "Izvini" he coughed out, waving away any concern sent his way. ”My apologies. Terrible allergies this time of year.”
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  location:

  Care of Magical Creatures classroom

  
  
  
  
  

  interaction:

  Angelique @Wolfiee

  
  
  
  
  

  feeling:

  concerned

  
  

  sugar coded ♡