Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

[honeycoves]

MOOD: scared, confused

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

LOCATION: infirmary > dining hall

two

INTERACTIONS: Naomi, those gathered in the dining hall

MENTIONS:

two

TAGS:
Sanctuaryforall1

two

TL;DR: Naomi's obscurus scares the shit of him, he goes to the dining hall and delivers a prophecy on the first trial.

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PIPER

As Naomi gently took his hand in hers, relief flooded through Piper. She was a sane person, after all, not a knowing, murderous psychopath. She said his name, so gently, so calmly. He dropped his head, lowering his gaze. He hadn't realized how tense he'd felt, he felt like he might cry now that it'd released. He exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. They were on the same page. They could help each other.

Then, her grip tightened. And then it tightened some more. He raised his gaze, practically squirming under her touch. "N-Naomi?" He asked softly, her nails digging into his flesh. He winced, moving to pull his hand from hers, but her grasp was so firm he was practically immobile. She leaned in, so closely that her breath tickled his nose. Their faces were nearly touching. Her dark eyes bored into his, damn near... soulless. Kiss or kill tension, is what they'd call it if they were characters in a novel or scene partners in a play. He was sure this was kill tension. The voice that left her body lacked the the airiness she had spoken with before. The kindness had turned to a hard edge. It sounded like her heart had disappeared and her chest was empty, her voice reverberating off of her bones, cold.

Naomi began to reference herself in the 3rd person with an icy distance, like she didn't know Naomi. Like she wasn't Naomi. The hair on the back of Piper's neck stood up as she spoke. "You're trying to ruin the game." Her words echoed in his mind. Game? Killing someone was a game? He began to rise. Her nails cut deeper. He returned to his kneeling position on the floor. He tried not to blink, not to breathe. His heart hammered in his chest. The sick feeling was back, and so was the ringing in his ears. Did he charge his hearing aids? He watched with chilling horror as her eyes turned black, like ink running across a watery page, saturating everything in sight until her eyes were void of any color or light.

Whatever was speaking was not Naomi, and apparently neither was that Mahoutokoro boy's murder. Black smoke twirled from her hands, curling around his, softly tickling his skin. What the fuck is happening? He instinctively pulled his arm back, only to be locked into Naomi's grip. She threatened him, if he dared to open his mouth and tell anyone what was happening—what he saw last night, what he was seeing now, both were sworn to be bullets to kill him and damn near anyone who mattered. Whatever this thing was, it was sure Piper would lose. Everyone would lose. Cold dread turned his stomach. He'd seen the future that this thing had created once, a single boy's death couldn't be all the hell it wished to bring.

In one fell swoop, Naomi's grip unlocked and her head fell backwards. She was unconscious again. Piper swiftly rose to his feet, heart threatening to leap out of his chest and onto the linoleum floor of the hospital wing. Goosebumps plagued his skin and the tremors of last night returned. He looked at his hand where fresh blood poured from new wounds. Naomi's soft voice tore his attention, filled with concern and noticeably more Naomi-like than it had been mere seconds ago. "What?" He couldn't quite concentrate. What was that? A possession? He wasn't familiar with possessions. They were so rare in the wizarding world he didn't come across them often. He wanted to ask Einar if he knew anything about possession. He would know about demons, right? He looked down as Naomi was gently grabbing his hand, looking at his cuts. "O-oh, yeah. I'm fine!" He pressed his lips together in a wry smile. "I-I must've cut my hand last night, and reopened it on the chair." He lied the best he could, gently taking the cloth from Naomi before she could notice the equal crescent shapes of the cuts.

He looked down at Naomi, his chest squeezing. How was he supposed to help her? "U-uh," He felt like he had something he needed to say, but the words he reached for vaporized the minute his fingers touched them. "Um..." He began to sway, the room began to swim. His mind... it was so foggy. Clouded. He squinted. It was like he couldn't see. His legs were imploring him to move, to start walking. "Naomi, I have to go." He said softly. He swallowed hard, trying to avoid choking on his own tongue. "I'll check back on you later, if you're not discharged?" He reached for one of her hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before leaving.

Dark spots danced along the edges of his vision, his legs moving almost automatically. He didn't even know where he was going. He took a turn, or at leas he thought he did, and muffled voices reached his ears. He could feel the presence of hundreds of bodies bustling around him, but he felt like the rest of his senses were in a tunnel. Had the thing that possessed Naomi possessed him? He could feel his feet moving, slowly, like walking through water. His ears started ringing again. Where was he?

Piper's eyes rolled back, and he stepped into the middle of the dining hall. As if magically compelled, students left a small ring around him untouched as they carefully navigated around him.

Footsteps thundered in his ears, someone breathed heavily like they were out of breath. His vision was dark, he could only catch flashes. Feet hitting the ground. They were running? From what?

A voice boomed out of his chest, foreign and unlike Piper's own. The pens of nearby students began scribbling on their own, ignoring the wishes of their owners. They transcribed what he spoke:

"For our champions our hearts keep,
A journey calls from secrets deep.
Shapes may shift and night may call,
Yet through the dark, the heart stands tall.

As morning stirs and light breaks through,
A soul emerges, clear and true.
By trials met and journey's end,
The fire within shall rise, unbent."

The room fell into a hushed silence, the only sound the uncomfortable shifting of onlookers. Piper's head slowly tipped backwards, pulling him towards the ground, which he hit with a loud and unceremonious thud.

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.

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Altair Ibn Layla​

Care of Magical Creatures Class​

"Damn..."​

---

Altair had just eased back into fawning over his professor when yet another commotion coming from the row of students above him caught his attention. Strained huffing made him turn his head and gave him full view of a very upset student. Her face was a shade of red that was reserved for those who had consumed food that was way too spicy. Seated next to Vasu, Altair recognized her from the burning notebook situation. Her astonishment at the outcome had turned into anger, twisting her cute face into one filled with vitriol. This anger fueled her words as she gave her own opinion on dragons. Altair was convinced Vasu had the biggest bone to pick with them, but the girl hated them more. He had no idea what a Yelbeghen was, but with the venom the girl had in her voice when she pronounced it, it had to be a swear in her native language. Then a certain tidbit alarmed Altair even more. Wait, did I hear that right? Dragons mate with women?! Thoroughly disgusted, Altair's squinting eyes slowly turned to the center stage, where his smoking hot professor was holding the baby dragon. Soaring through the skies? Causing people to stop and look at you with awe? Getting freaky with girls?! That's my job, you piece of crap! Mine! The Mahoutokoro secondary couldn't help but feed off his enraged classmate's energy.

A resounding thud came from behind, but Altair was too focused on the cursed infant dragon to turn again. It was only when he heard Vasu shouting and a colorful light display of energy blooming past him into thin air that he looked backwards, a hand covering his ear at the noise of the spell that had been cast. The source of the commotion had tipped over in his seat and was in the process of emerging from under his desk. Over the sound of almost everyone in class laughing, Altair could barely make out his words. He was trying to defend himself from a flying lion? It must have been one of those silent and invisible lions, because there was zero evidence of the alleged predator at all. Altair scanned his surroundings for anything else that could have elicited such a violent reaction. Then, a theory popped into Altair's mind. He first looked to his flustered classmate and recalled their first interaction. 'This professor is fucking batshit, I swear.' And then there was something else he overheard him say.'...They’d have him teaching this class rather than this psycho bitch.' Finally, Altair looked to the professor, who was still watching the lingering fireworks fizzle away. Did Vasu try to cast a spell on their professor, then played it off as something else when he missed? As the class' laughter began to quiet down, Altair nodded his head knowingly, confident in the crackshot theory he conjured moments ago. He also had his fair share of professors back home who got on his nerves, but never enough to try anything as crazy as this. On the bright side, it seemed like he was on Vasu's good side, so maybe if he did snap in the middle of class, Altair would at least get a warning beforehand. That, and a running start.

The rest of class went on uneventfully until mercifully, the bell rang. Care of Magical Creatures was officially over, and the Japanese student was ready to bounce. But first, a burning question needed answering. Turning to face Vasu, Altair started to ask why he hated her so much when he instead saw the other boy flying down the steps. And while he was running, Altair was treated to quite a sight. That boy chose the right day to wear snug jeans, because it gave his admirer the perfect view of his perfectly shaped rear. It was like he had two apples in his back pocket. He was packing some serious cake. No, forget cake, Vasu had the whole bakery! As he rushed away and out of view, Altair himself rose to his feet and made his way down. Both he and their professor had one thing in common. Why is it always the cute ones that end up being crazy?

As soon as he was down the steps, Altair took a turn and headed straight for the tree where he had stashed his carpet. As he unrolled it and willed his ride to rise into the air, he smirked as a few passing students took notice of his exit from class. Altair continued to rise until he was well above the trees, at which point he stared back towards Ilvermorny Castle. As much as he wanted to find the dorm he would be sleeping in and take a nice, long nap, he doubted he would hear the end of it from his professors. Besides, he had another babe to meet today. And this one wasn't of the psycho variant. It would be nice to lay his eyes on Chitirita and let her know that the calvary was here to have her back. As he looked down at the ever growing mass of students commuting from class to wherever they needed to be next, Altair instinctively reached for the Hajar, as he did whenever he had issues. He could once again feel the stone willing him towards where he needed to be. Like an eagle detecting its prey, Altair swooped down on his flying carpet towards the rear of the castle. He would land there and travel on foot to his next encounter.

 

[Aviator]

Vasu Saini // “the Snake Charmer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​

I know you have things to do, but my things are more important and come first, so to hell with yours, Vasu mentally rewrote and finished the sentence of the self-proclaimed Uagadou professor before him. His skin was the same dark velvet as the space between the stars, making his blue-and-red-striped robe so vibrant that it felt like a sucker punch to the face. The man was chortling conspiratorially, as if he’d cracked some joke that evaded Vasu’s understanding, and Vasu wasn’t fully successful in hiding the judgy mystification that bled through his scowl. With a grand sweeping gesture, as if he were a magician producing a dove from a cape, the Uagadou professor opened a meaty palm to reveal a full-sized chocolate chip cookie, which was only slightly crumbled at its edges. Vasu continued to stare, waiting for the part that would be worth his while.
The professor—Nyache—the spelling of whose name Vasu could only guess—wiggled his fingers. Before Vasu’s eyes, the cookie started to levitate, pulsing softly in midair. Vasu watched, supremely unimpressed. Slowly, the cookie started drifting toward him. Vasu looked at Nyache’s face, unsure what the big man’s intent was. He was practically smoldering with an ear-to-ear grin as he referred to Vasu as little buddy. Vasu’s confusion shifted to discomfort, and he tried not to visibly cringe. Either he thinks I’m a stray dog in garbage or five years old. I’m not sure which, Vasu thought acidly. A stray dog would need meat to be bribed to do this overperky bloke’s bidding, which is a step above what I’m getting now. However worthless his currency, maybe Nyache was in luck. If he was after answers about Aurelia, Vasu would provide those for free, and gladly pounce on the opportunity to sully her name. Suspicion clouded his thoughts. If this was allegedly Aurelia’s professor, then why did he need Vasu to tell him information he should already know?
The pause following the professor’s offer stretched awkwardly long. Realizing that he was supposed to accept the cookie, Vasu reached out and, gingerly, pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. He was mildly disgusted that someone would touch food with a bare hand and then offer it to him. With the exception of mint-flavored things, Vasu didn’t even eat sweets. But Nyache didn’t need to know that, especially when he was unknowingly playing into Vasu’s hands. He manufactured a smile. “I would love nothing more, Professor. Why don’t we find somewhere more discreet to talk?” he suggested. “I happen to have found a place while I was exploring last night.” Vasu was careful to direct their travel, as he did not want to take Nyache through the wreckage of his duel with Cinderella and prompt an unwanted line of conversation.
The Uagadou man trailed Vasu like a big, lumbering shadow as he skirted the Great Hall, which was bubbling with a jovial uproar as students mingled over lunch. Twice Vasu had to pause and resist the impulse to impatiently tap his foot as he waited for Nyache to catch up, huffing and puffing. Vasu grunted in response to a comment that he walked fast, thinking that Nyache might too if the word potato didn’t best describe the shape of his body. Behind the Great Hall, a short, narrow flight of stairs led upward, disappearing into darkness in a way that suggested it was easy to miss and hard to find. Vasu ascended without difficulty, but Nyache had to turn sideways to squeeze after him. At the landing, the big man paused to catch his breath, while Vasu held open the mottled wood door at the top. He discreetly tossed the cookie into the wide-brimmed pot of a plant. A plaque on the door declared its name to be Kempe Room.
Nyache stumbled and Vasu walked into a room ablaze with the honey glow of gaslamps. Everything was polished wood, and a large conference table stood at its center, the kind of massive piece of furniture around which the League of Villains met to plot the end of the world. Spinny office chairs circled the table. A defunct television stared from the far wall, useless because someone had snatched the batteries out of the remote, and beside the wall closer to them was a couch with pastel-green cushions. Above it was a massive framed picture of some kind of big, shaggy dog with slender limbs; Vasu thought it might have been a Rough Collie. The room smelled faintly of some kind of strange, potent chemical that made Vasu’s nose itch. It was faint in the kind of way that this room hadn’t been treated to much of it over the summer when the school was uninhabited, but that it had been popularly used here during the course of the school year, and to Vasu’s enhanced olfaction, some of that smell lingered from months ago. Other than some suspicious stains on the couch and badly needing a scented candle, the room was quite lovely.
“You might not want to sit there,” Vasu advised seriously. Nyache had gravitated toward the couch and was currently hovering above it in a half-squat, ready to plunk his weight down. The man’s expression furrowed with a question, but he followed Vasu’s lead to the conference table, where he appeared to swallow the office chair he sat on. Meanwhile, Vasu was daydreaming when it would be his turn to bring a hot girl to the couch in Kempe Room, and what else she might look like other than hot. After a lot of disinfectant, of course. Nyache cleared his throat expectantly, and Vasu reluctantly turned to the topic at hand. Aurelia Quansah, who had, in the span of a ninety-minute class, managed to become one of the few hot girls Vasu wanted no affiliation with. Except to be there when she sobbed in defeat at the end of the tournament.
“I’m afraid I’ve only known Miss Quansah for less than a day, so my knowledge about her is limited,” Vasu admitted, thinking that acknowledging such limits was a good strategy to establish credibility. “But my first impression of her is that she is quite… smitten with one of the Hogwarts competitors. And I only know his name is Theodore West because I saw the notebook page she’d drawn on, with big hearts encircling his name. There were so many different colors and handwritings that she must have been at it for an hour. Maybe she had some help, because I saw her giggling over him with a group of Ilvermorny girls.
“In fact, she was late to Care for Magical Creatures class today,” Vasu said, suddenly grave. “She didn’t arrive with a note, I noticed. And West didn’t show up to class at all, even though he was scheduled to. Because it would have been suspicious if they arrived together, no? Professor, you don’t think, um, they were…” Vasu swallowed and broke off, as if suddenly distressed. He lowered his gaze to the table. “You know, I admire Aurelia for making friends with the other competitors. The older kids from foreign schools intimidate me a little, to be totally honest. I just hope that her infatuation doesn’t get in the way of her studies. Our Creatures professor was kind enough to let her slide today, but…” Vasu winced a little, as if a bitter liquor had gone down his throat. His narrative concluded, he dared a glance at Nyache to see how the man was taking this news that his student had, in less than a day, cemented herself as the campus slut.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)

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  Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)
  Beauxbatons - Female - Muggle Born - Secondary
  
  
  
  Concern beat like a hurricane trapped within her heart for Piper as the young man raced from the room, a shaky sway in his step as he retreated. From the instant her eyes had opened only a few moments before it had been clear that something had happened to Piper. His hand was bleeding, his vision seemed to war on if it was focused or not, his movements were uncoordinated, and it didn’t seem that he could get his thoughts or words to cooperate no matter how hard he tried. For a moment Naomi wondered if perhaps Piper should be settled into his own bed in the hospital wing for the nurses to examine him. Was he ill? Had he been affected by whatever had happened to her? On that note Naomi’s brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what HAD happened to her.
  
  Brief faded flickers of memories streaked through her mind and she felt as though she could almost remember someone trying to explain to her why she was in the hospital wing but the muffled words and smeared images felt more like a dream than a memory. She knew she had been awake earlier, she had spoken with Nurse Sunny and then Piper had shown up. After that the memories faded and no matter how hard she tried to delve into the depth of her mind she could not manage to pull forth anything helpful to fill in the gaps. Her brow furrowed and a sharp pain spiked through her skull causing her to physically wince and grasp the side of her head for a few heartbeats. “This is all too far from being well…” She muttered to herself and took her lower lip between her teeth as she cradled her head for a moment longer and waited for the pain to pass.
  
  When the thorn burrowed deep within her mind finally seemed to come loose earthy eyes fluttered open again and peered around through the curtain of pale rose gold hair that had fallen into her face. She took her next few movements slowly at first, testing what limits she might have and what might trigger the pain again. As she shifted and pushed the covers off of her Naomi noticed that the only aches that rang out were from the stiff hospital bed. If she moved too fast she got a sense of light-headedness and the phantom taste of a headache but both seemed to clear up almost as suddenly as the appeared. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed a soft gasp escaped her lips as her bare feet touched the chilled stone floor. Glancing around the Beauxbatons sixth year took note that she was dressed in a simple hospital gown and seeing as her ball dress and heels were nowhere to be found it seemed she had no other clothing options aside from a thin hospital robe. “Anything to prevent a breeze…” She sighed softly as she stood and reached for the thin blue robe, pulling her arms through the sleeves and wrapping it shut in front of her, her fingers working swiftly to tie it at her waist. The hospital gown and the robe both fell to mid-thigh leaving her pale legs and feet exposed to the chilled antiseptic-scented air but Naomi didn’t seem to mind or rather she decided to put it out of her head as she reached to carefully pull the curtain out of her way.
  
  Peering around the thick cloth that hung as a barrier between her and the other beds Naomi’s gaze swept over the large room before her. Across the way, she could see Nurse Sunny and another older woman talking as they looked over a chart. Their backs were turned to her and seeing as they were the only other beings that were up and alert at this time Naomi knew this would be her best chance to unofficially discharge herself from the hospital. A torrent of reasons for her desire to leave stormed within her but perhaps the most important of them was her concern for Piper. He just hadn’t seemed right when he was rushing off and a sense of concern had been heavy like a rock on her chest in the moments that followed his departure. Unfortunately, as she tip-toed with surprising speed, aided in stealth by her lack of footwear, Naomi came to realize she had no idea where the young man had run off to. Coming to a brief stop just outside the doors to the hospital wing the pale-haired young woman clutched the robe closed across her chest and looked around. There were no signs of where Piper could have run off to and to be quite honest she wasn’t entirely certain about where she was or how to get anywhere else in the school. The route to the hospital wing hadn’t been a part of her self-guided tour last night thus Naomi quickly found herself feeling like a mouse lost in a stone maze. Recognizing that she would have to move soon or risk being caught by a nurse so close to the hospital wing the young woman turned on her heels and began pattering down the hall to the left.
  
  For what felt like more time than seemed possible Naomi wandered the halls trying to spot anything that seemed familiar to her. Unfortunately, if she tried to think too hard into her memories of the night before the sharp pain would return to her mind and a few times the young woman had to brace herself against the wall to keep her shaky legs from folding beneath her from the pain. Each time it struck the pain was just as quick to fade and again the soft pattering of bare feet would dance in a hushed manner through the halls. After about her fifth bout of pain, Naomi decided it might be best to travel with her hand close to the wall. As she rounded the corner, her fingers brushing the stone, her free hand still holding the top of her robe, her bare feet came to a halt when she spotted two figures before her. One she did not recognize but knew had to be a professor due to his age and attire, the other brought a weak smile to her soft rosey lips. “Vasu?” She breathed upon locking eyes with the young man.
  
  
  
  Mentions: Piper honeycoves Vasu Aviator Darweshi TobiornotTobi
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

• Professor Einar

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  Professor Birger Einar
  Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor
  
  
  
  With the first day of classes behind him and his students Einar had taken to busying himself with sorting through several key historical moments he had noticed grabbed the attention of his students during the day's lecture. His wand danced over the pages of his thick leather-bound tome with which he had put on the display for his students during class and as it moved over the pages words of an ancient tongue spilled from the lips of the old man. He wanted to ensure that his students would truly be able to delve into any historical moment that interested them as well as a few that they might not have learned about yet. Years ago the elder professor had learned that bringing history to life through the use of illusion had a tendency to help his students engage with the course. Many times History of Magic fell victim to the fact that it was nearly impossible to engage with the past, students would glaze over if left to simply read about it. This was why he had dedicated so much time and effort to perfecting this teaching method. It allowed his pupils to feel a part of history as observers of the events, it made it real to them thus making it memorable.
  
  As his wand swept over the last page of his section on the 1743 Great Griffon Migration, the sound that could only be described as a bear roaring to life thundered from his stomach. Having been so consumed by his project the old man forgot about food entirely but this call of desperation from his empty stomach soon had him cane in hand strolling towards the dining hall.
  
  It didn’t take Einar too long to find his way towards the great doors of the hall which practically oozed with the mixed scents of savory and sweet sustenance. He was just beginning to consider what he might like to select for his meal when several shouts of shock and horror rang from the other side of the door and a voice that sounded both familiar and broken boomed to life. “Piper!” Einar gasped as his heart was gripped by the cold and unrelenting talons of alarm for the young man. In one swift movement, Einar’s massive form threw open the doors to the dining hall as he rushed to aid his distressed student. “Move! Step aside!” His thunderous roar cut through the cries and shouts of the students who had gathered around Piper. “MAKE WAY!” He bellowed and did not have to repeat himself again as, like the Red Sea, the mob of students parted to avoid being plowed over by the foreign professor and his hulking form. In that moment it was hard to imagine that Einar was an elder in any way as his movements were filled with such strength and certainty when he rushed to Piper’s side.
  
  His knees slammed to the ground mere seconds after the sandy blonde crown of Piper’s head smacked against the floor. “Piper! Piper, son, can you hear me?” Einar’s voice was thick with worry as he removed his cloak to place under the young mans head where a steady pool of crimson was beginning to appear. Einar knew that he was no master healer and at this moment that is exactly what his young student needed. “You and you, run and grab the nurses.” Einar instructed two Ilvermorny students who were looking on with wide gawking eyes. “NOW!” He practically growled as he carefully held Piper’s head using his cloak to sop up the blood, provide cushion, and keep Piper’s neck and skull as stable as possible. While Einar wasn’t an expert at healing with magic he still had his wits about common battlefield medical sense and knew he needed to keep Piper as steady and stable as possible to prevent further risk of injury. If Piper were to regain consciousness he would fight like hell to ensure the young seer didn’t pass out again. Einar was already well aware that it was Piper’s seer abilities that had caused the young man to experience such an episode and collapse. Now it was Einar’s job to help him in the aftermath. “Piper, if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes.” His voice like distant thunder rumbling in the mountains coaxed as he did his best to administer care until the nurses arrived.
  
  
  Mentions: Piper honeycoves
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Darweshi Nyache​

Ilvermorny Halls​

"Autheodore...Theorelia..."​

---

Despite his very apparent agitation, the student Darweshi had encountered agreed to assist him in his quest for knowledge. Accepting the cookie, he took point and started walking. Clearly, he knew his way around the school. Life and noise was returning to the halls, which Darweshi was thankful for. Years of teaching made him accustomed to large gatherings of people moving and talking around him. Planning their days, sharing jokes, and things of such nature. Even in the privacy of his home office, he would let background noise play, as the silence felt uncomfortable. Although he was grateful for the young man's willingness to help in his time of need, Darweshi couldn't help but notice that he wanted to be anywhere but with him. The way he traversed through the halls and slid around students reminded the Uagadou Professor of a snake, and despite Darweshi's hobby of going out for runs, he still struggled to keep up. The only thing he had eaten in almost a day had been some cookies. Delicious cookies, but lacking in nutrition. Should have...packed more cookies then, he thought to himself as he slugged behind his faster companion.

After a variety of twists and turns, the two arrived in front of a door. To promote proper oxygen flow, one was advised to remain standing when catching their breath. Darweshi, too tired to adhere to that advice, bend down, tired after the trip he was led through. When he eventually had enough strength to straighten up and look ahead, the student was holding the door open. Smiling in thanks, he took labored steps into the room. It was a well-lit room decorated with a variety of furniture. There was a couch, but also a large conference table. Whoever decided on the overall direction of the room was caught between two worlds, but it worked. After all that walking, a plush seat on the couch would work wonders, but Darweshi's urge to belly flop was cut off by the student. He wasn't sure why it was a poor choice for seating, but he headed for the table nonetheless and had a seat. From there the student began his account of the past day and a half. But more importantly, about Aurelia. Darweshi listened intently, a smile on his face at the start. But it took no time at all for his facial expression to change at the news that Aurelia had developed feelings for another student partaking in the tournament. And in the wake of this, his smile grew even wider as he nodded his head in acknowledgement. His young student had developed a schoolgirl crush? This was a far cry from the focused, hyper-determined Aurelia Darweshi had split off from at the beginning of their journey. A welcome surprise, however! For once, she was being vulnerable and displaying her innermost feelings for everyone to see.

However, his joy was dampened at the news that her studies had taken a backseat in the pursuit of young love. Harkening back to a time when the hair on his chin and head were swapped, Darweshi was smitten with a fellow Uagadou student. He had shirked his duties as a student to have fun with her after class. But when their love, which Darweshi had assumed would last forever and ever, eventually shattered, he was left trying to stay afloat after so many daydreams, fantasies, and a Bible's worth of baby names. And although he never managed to recover in Astronomy, he could at least prevent Aurelia from making such a mistake. Maybe he could even get the two lovebirds together with a little Darweshi magic? But first, to nip the problem in the bud before it grew into a mess. As for the implication that the two young students were being indecent, that was a very large glass of milk to take in. Darweshi looked at the boy, whose emotions had shifted to that of worry. Maybe it was Darweshi's own fear over the implications of his student being indecent, but he brushed off the student's concerns over sex as that of an overactive imagination. The relationship between student and professor had its boundaries, and said boundaries would be strained over such a subject. To Darweshi's advantage, however, he had a daughter who was a year younger than Aurelia, so he had an idea of what to say should it come down to that. But for now, he deserved to be happy. And Aurelia's parents deserved to know that their daughter was okay.

All in all, the news was manageable, and Darweshi's attitude showed it. Lightly pounding the table with his fist, he rose to his feet. "My friend, I bestow many thanks upon you! This is wonderful news! My Aurelia has always been a star student, but I'm glad she's connecting with others her age! Now let us return to the land of the living, I'm sure you're itching to get back to your business!"

Newly invigored, Darweshi walked to the door leading out of the room and exited with the boy. Just as Darweshi backed up so the boy could lead them back to the main hall, another voice entering the fray almost made Darweshi jump is his robes. Turning to the left, he watched as a pale, young lady with pinkish hair weakly uttered a name. Darweshi turned to the boy next to him and gauged his reaction. By the looks of it, he must be this Vasu the girl spoke of. Darweshi turned back to the girl, eyes widening at her stance as she gripped the wall beside her for strength.

"Are you okay, my dear?" Darweshi spoke softly. The girl looked as if too loud of a voice would blow her over. "And where are your shoes?"

 

[Wolfiee]

Angelique Chimere

Professor

location here

mood here

outfit here

interactions

interactions come here

So many detentions given on a first day to students who were supposed to be champions and secondaries. Angelique shook her head. These students weren’t taking anything serious she had given a student called Mey detention right then and there while in care of magical creatures class. Now annoyingly enough she was searching for Mey’s professor so she could have a chat with them about Mey’s behavior. Her mood was also soured by her own students, especially the one who had been chosen as champion as he seemed to be missing in action. Her teeth gritted, it seemed it was time to send some of her students back to Beauxbaton if they couldn’t act right then they would go back home. She didn’t care much if the students didn’t like her that much. It wasn't her job to be their friend; she was there to teach them and teach them well.


Magical creatures could kill them yet none of these students seemed to care that they were young and so she understood but still. Her long black hair flowed down her back as she began her search; she was also looking for Professor Bellamy. She was wondering if he would care to join her for a drink. These students certainly made her want to drink and she wanted to know more about why one of her own students had been involved with the man earlier. She only stopped when she spotted a student with pure white hair seeming to be crouched down looking at something. Angel headed over then looked startled seeing an ugly little bird sitting in some ashes.”Chaleur what in the world are you doing.”she said looking exasperated by the phoenix. The small bird chuffed, flapping its small ugly wings and wiggling its head as if it was sassing the professor back. “Is this phoenix yours professor?”Malaika asked gently, picking the small bird up before holding it out to the young professor. “Yes she is and she was supposed to stay in my room. I knew she was going to be doing this soon but she’s stubborn and likes to still go out.”she said gently pocketing the phoenix before looking at the student. “You best be getting off before you get into trouble. Though I do appreciate you taking care of my small friend here.”she said allowing the student off this one time. Malaika nodded.”Thank you professor and of course I wouldn’t want to see any creature hurt.”she said as old memories flashed in her mind of what her father used to do. She shook her head some before hurrying off not wanting to get the wrath of the French professor.


Angelique watched the student round the corner before continuing on; she wasn’t sure which professor would be easier to find. Perhaps she would try and find Bellamy first after of course depositing her little feathered friend off into her room so she could grow back to her normal size before exploring. Or she could check on her own students. She could do that while on her way to her room something told her this group was certainly going to be causing trouble and she could feel a headache coming from a mile away. It didn't take long before she found her room and deposited Chaleur onto her cushion, rubbing the phoenix’s featherless head and scolding her gently in French about being more careful from now on.

coded by natasha.

 

[honeycoves]

Chitrita Pawar

@

luvchtrta

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  00:42

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  liability

  
  
  
  

  lorde

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:01

  
  

  :

  tournament

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  you've been promoted to champion

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  10:59

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  guilt

  is eating you alive.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

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  mood

  
  

  sick, upset

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  bathroom > dorm room

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Altair TobiornotTobi

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

i'm a good girl. promise.

Everything in Chitrita ached. Her stomach, her head, her heart. Missing class, dealing with shady professors, and sitting on a dirty bathroom floor in America was certainly not how she had imagined the start of this semester going. She pulled her knees in close to her chest as she willed her stomach to be still and urged the tears to stop flowing from her face. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her forearms. Her heart slowed, each beat so heavy it felt like her ribs were rattling. You have 10 seconds to feel sorry for yourself. She told herself, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. Then you turn it off. 1, 2... She breathed deeply. 3, 4... She was a bad person. Getting Odinson killed was evidence of it. 5, 6... Being bad people must run in the family. She and Aadesh couldn't be too different, after all. 7, 8... She'd break her mother's heart one day, but fortunately no one else's. She had no real connections to hurt anyone like that. That might be just as bad as killing. 9, 10...

Chitrita heaved herself to her feet, clutching the toilet bowl for support. She wiped the remaining tears from her face. Before leaving, she took just a moment to assess her appearance in the restroom's mirror. She let her hair down, the silky dark tresses cascading down her shoulders. She smoothed it down carefully, eliminating any frizz with the gentle swoop of her hand. She ran her fingers under cold water, patting them under her eyes. Once the puffiness had reduced to her satisfaction, she took a few more seconds to clean up her makeup. She wiped off what had run, and not wanting to bother with doing a full face here, she opted to remove most of the skin makeup and touch up her mascara, eyeliner, and blush. A little less perfect than she'd like— okay, a lot less perfect— but would do for the time being. She didn't really plan on spending time where people could perceive her for the rest of the day anyway.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned on her heel. She wouldn't allow herself to cry for that oaf any longer.

She walked with a statuesque appearance, a stone face that refused to look anywhere but ahead of her. With the escapades of last night, she knew significantly more of the castle than most of the visiting students. She frowned slightly as her Mary Janes softly clicked on the floor. Arif. The deal that had killed Odinson had occurred when she agreed to incapacitate Arif. He seemed like a vengeful man. She, at this moment, wanted retribution herself. She had gotten what she wanted: the champion title. But in doing so, the deal she had cut with Monroe had put herself in danger. If anyone knew exactly who had been behind Odinson's death, she would be expelled. It wasn't a risk she was willing to take. The threat of Monroe needed to be eliminated. If Arif was looking for revenge, maybe he'd be a better business partner than his female counterpart. Chitrita recalled the calculated way they watched each other and spoke to each other this morning in the infirmary. Arif seemed like a strange lunatic, in his own right, but outright killing a student would put him at severe risk of losing his job. A risk she wasn't confident he was willing to take. It wasn't advantageous enough for him.

As she thought about it, the two of them weren't so different. But that meant she knew what she'd need to conduct business with him: something he wanted. Something he needed. Like a way to reverse what she'd done to him just this morning.

She turned the key to her dorm room and swung the door open, relieved to find it abandoned by Quansah. Plotting didn't necessarily leave a good impression on anyone. Not that she wanted to befriend Quansah, but rather to protect herself from the consequences of being ratted out by a nosy tattle-tale. She plopped down on her bed, pulling her heavily annotated potions book from her bag before letting it fall to the floor with a loud thump. Leaning back, she placed it carefully in her lap and opened to the back, where she had hastily scrawled her steps to create the Liegilimency blocker she'd slipped Arif. The problem was that the potion was entirely of her own experiment. There was no way to even verify if it worked, and she had no way to verify if any antidote she attempted to create would work either. The blocker was a modification of a few potions that were already in invention—the Veritaserum Antidote, Muffling Draught, and Elixir 7 consisting of the main body. There were dozens of antidotes and salves, and she really didn't have an idea of what a decent start would be for a counter.

Chitrita began scrawling some ideas down. Ingredients, other potions to look at to modify, possible steps in creating an antidote. Her annotations in her book varied with several different languages, English, Bengali, Hindu, Japanese, being the main stars. She preferred English, since the cursive script struck her fancy the most, but given the sensitive nature of these scribbles, she opted for Bengali instead. She wasn't sure anyone in the school could speak, let alone read it. It was a safe language.

She had just begun to scribble powered moonstone onto the page when someone knocked on the door. She frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone, and Quansah was gone. She glanced at the door for just a moment, before electing to ignore it. Her pen had just scratched down the Donita no before another knock sounded at the door. She rolled her eyes. Ugh. Didn't this chick wait to tell her friends to come over until she was physically in the room? She was mentally cursing Quansah as she stalked towards the door. She pulled the door open with a tug, expecting to be met with a chittering girl she didn't know.

"Layla?" Her eyebrows scrunched together. She didn't expect to see the other Mahoutokoro student. She fully expected that she would be the only remaining representative with Odinson gone. Ito said she'd protect her. But they were sending another lamb to the slaughter? Another victim for Rita to brutally claim in some other horrifically selfish way. Altair's bright, smiling face deeply contrasted the way she felt inside. The two ran in different circles at school. She hardly knew him, only recalling his name and face from the occasional shared class. Which meant he knew her as the perfect school girl that most of the Mahoutokoro professors knew her as. She smiled softly, bowing slightly to him in greeting. "Uh, please, come in," She stepped aside and allowed him to step into her room. She closed the door behind him. "I met with Ito-sensei. She didn't mention that you had joined her here."

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Sigurd Berg​

History of Magic Class​

"What was wrong with the punch?"​

---

The answer Sigurd received from his classmate was vague and lacked the information he was looking for regarding the tournament's opening ceremony. The student's response was marred with pauses, as if hand-picking each word carefully. He was very much distracted and preoccupied, and it showed. A lot more had happened than he was giving away, especially when Sigurd asked about the assignment he had to step away and complete with his professor. He seemed to catch himself, labelled the topic as chill and moved on. Eventually, it was Sigurd's turn. The Durmstrang champion already had his tidbit of history ready to go, a deep breath prefacing his explanation on the Sverd I Fjell, a monument in Norway of three giant swords staked in the ground. The monument was created as tribute to the definitive battle that allowed Harald Hafargre to unite Norway into one kingdom. But as the first words came out of his mouth, his classmate excused himself and departed for the bathroom. With nothing else to do, Sigurd let his eyes survey the room idly. Briefly, he left his eyes on Ms. Sinclaire as she engaged in conversation with the other girl from earlier. Sigurd attempted to eavesdrop on the conversation between the two potential champions, but the sounds of dozens of conversations at the same time prevented him from hearing anything. Finally, the boy returned to his notes, dissatisfied and left with more questions than answers.

But instead of writing or going over what he had written, his train of thought rewinded to Professor Einar's visual presentation of last night. There had been introductions made, food eaten, and dances had. Besides the faces of his fellow students and possible competitors, Sigurd failed to extract any pertinent information from the mystical slideshow. But yet, he still found himself returning to the images in his mind. The towering mountain that was Professor Einar delicately dancing with a student at least a foot shorter than him. Another chowing down on a smorgasbord of food. Did he miss something that his subconscious was trying to alert him to? What was this feeling forming inside him? Thankfully, Professor Einar returned attention to himself soon after and had everyone open their books for some reading, allowing Sigurd to shove his inner conflict to the side and put his mind to use. Sometime later, the ringing of a bell signaled the end of class. Everyone rose up at once and gathered their things, filing out the door. Taking his fur coat from the back of his chair, Sigurd put it back on and prepared to walk against the flow of students to confer with his professor. There were only two people who could reliably put his questions to rest, and one was in a different class. But perhaps Professor Einar knew which class Piper was in? There were matters to discuss, and two points of view were better than one. The champion began to walk to the front of the class, but someone ahead of him caused Sigurd to reassess his priorities.

One particular girl, her hair the color of freshly tilled soil, was also preparing to leave class. One whose ire he had brought upon himself by attacking with an unintentional physical and verbal one-two combo. Instead of bee-lining for his professor, Sigurd started his journey to her now retreating form. The boy's mind dashed all thoughts but the task at hand. How should he approach this interaction? Go in humble, but firm? Cowtow and urgently plead for her forgiveness? What was he to do? Sigurd, still mid-thought, had reached his fellow student outside the classroom and tapped her shoulder to get her attention. The girl spun around and was met face to face with him. And he was still overthinking how he should say sorry. He stared at her, not a peep coming from him as students moved around them. In the face of this difficult, a third option formed. What if he opted out of apologizing at all? A message had clearly been sent to everyone that he was abrasive and someone you did not want to get in the way of. It was certainly a power move Father would employ. Once again, Sigurd was at odds with his Father's advice. Despite everything, he needed to act quickly. At the moment, he was still imitating a statue as she waited for whatever he had to say.

Sigurd cleared his throat and snapped to attention, as if he was a soldier in the presence of a commanding officer. "Ms. Sinclaire, I would like to formally apologize for my conduct at the beginning of class. I lashed out when I shouldn't have and made a fool of myself in front of the entire class...and you as well." Another throat clearing. "Not that I think that you're a fool at all, it is just what the class may have been thinking after we..."

His voice trailed off as he realized that if he backtracked anymore, he would fling himself back in time. His right arm rose like a drawbridge and extended itself in the gap between the two of them. Sigurd sustained eye contact as he did so. "I hope we can put this behind us. It's too early in the tournament to make an enemy."

Unsure if he was able to convey his point, Sigurd willed every ounce of charisma he could muster to spread his lips apart and flash his teeth in a smile. It was something he rarely did, but he knew that if he wanted to sell his case, he would have to step up and remove his poker face. Just for this moment.

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Altair Ibn Layla​

Chitrita's Dorm(!)​

"I must be dreaming..."​

---

After stowing away his carpet and embarking on a walk through Ilvermorny's bustling halls, Altair turned a final corner and reached his destination. According to the Hajar, behind the door before him was Chitrita Pawar. Employing some last-minute grooming, he dabbed his pinky and thumb on his tongue before using the fingers to smooth out his eyebrows.

"Showtime!" He said to himself excitedly before rapping his knuckle on the door. After ten seconds passed, Altair's hype died down a little in the face of silence. He raised an quizzical eyebrow. There was no way she wasn't in there, he could feel it. Or at least, his trusty dowsing stone could feel it. And the Hajar hadn't steered him wrong yet! So once more, he knocked on the door and to his delight, he heard footsteps creeping up in volume. Until the definitive moment of truth came when the door knob twisted and the door slid back to reveal Chitrita. The first thing Altair picked up on was her mood. She looked very agitated, her eyes narrowed into daggers and those full, red lips squeezed together in a pout. She definitely wasn't taking Odinson's departure from the tournament well. On the bright side, when she realized who was at the door, her pout turned into a surprised expression. Looks like she wasn't expecting Headmaster to whip out the big guns! When she made way for him to enter the room, Altair's body didn't immediately respond to his mind's commands. Chitrita Pawar was letting him into her room? In the first minute of them interacting one on one? Altair resisted the urge to strut into the room as if his name had been called during an award ceremony. Instead, he walked into the room like a normal human being.

It was a nice set up for a shared dorm, with a decent amount of space and multiple beds in the room. There was no trouble in surmising which bed belonged to Chitrita. A heavy-looking potions book laid on one of the beds, one Altair recognized as a common piece on her desk during their shared Potions class. Altair nodded his head while mentally appraising the room. Finally, he spun around to her. "Nice digs!"

In turn, he was met with a confused expression. Professor Ito didn't mention that he was here? Altair let out a chuckle before he spoke again. "That's our professor, always playing her cards close to her chest! Then again, when you have an ace in your pocket, you don't go around announcing it to the world!" Altair lowered his voice back down. "But yeah, word about Odinson reached home and we hopped on the next portkey here. Poor guy tore his ACL or something and now he's benched. Good news is that the A-team has arrived, which means that you're safe now! We're not gonna let anything happen to you!"

As soon the promise left his lips, Altair's excited gaze swept the room again. The room that not one, but two girls were sleeping in. He basked in the moment, inhaling and exhaling. The scent of oranges and mangos filled his nose. It was total bliss. The guys back home wouldn't believe this one! Sensing opportunity, Altair stepped towards the other bed. "Who's your roommate? Is she cute? Would you put in a good word for me? I need something to do while you're off bringing home the gold for our school!"

Unable to find any pictures of Chitrita's roommate in the open, Altair turned back around to face his classmate. He hadn't really gotten a good look at her since she greeted him at the door. The two were among a handful of students at Mahoutokoro with dark skin, which made Altair appreciate hers even more. Whenever he and his friends conversed about the girls of Mahoutokoro, Chitrita's name always came up. She was cute, smart, and popular to boot. She wasn't at all jaded by the constant pressure to succeed and be +A #1 like the other students with golden robes were. It was a wonder she hadn't been snatched up by one of the popular boys at school. While assessing her face for any signs of improvement in her mood, Chitrita began pointing at his pants, surprise plastered on her face. Altair threw his hands up into the air in frustration. Just as he suspected, this was all a dream. He had this exact one two nights ago, except with Junko Kong from Herbology in Chitrita's place. Any second now he would wake up, the dream never progressing to the good part. Suddenly, his pants began to tighten. Alright, what the hell is happeni--OH CRAP!

Altair decided to look down and was met with the sight of something very large bulging out of his pants pocket. It was big enough that he felt himself tilting to the left from the weight, and it was still growing. This wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare! Suddenly, the sound of fabric ripping pierced the air. Altair's navy jeans had torn apart apart from the left side. And with a heavy thud, something dark and heavy dropped onto the ground. It took no time at all to recognize the mystery object that had seemingly appeared from thin air: his suitcase. The boy had completely forgotten that he had shrunk his suitcase right before Care of Magical Creatures, and the shrinking charm had finally worn off. At the most inopportune time, perhaps in Altair entire seventeen years of living. And to make an embarrassing situation worse, his pants dropped down to his feet, his belt having popped from the suitcase's expansion. Which left him standing in his boxers. With the speed of a tortoise, Altair slowly shifted his eyes from his orange briefs with miniature suns dotting them to Chitrita. He flashed a smile, because the only other option was to cry. This was a mess, and it made no sense! No, it made sense, it's just that before danger struck, he would have gotten a warning from a certain lucky charm of his. Hajar, what the hell?!

In the meantime, at least we're all alone. Wait, no, that makes things even worse! Or maybe it doesn't! Maybe if I just stand completely still, I'll wake up from this total disaster...any second now...

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Azura Ito

• 
  
  
  
  Professor Azura Ito
  Mahoutokoro - Female - Half-Blood - Professor
  
  
  
  Curtains drawn. Something that might seem odd to do the moment one enters a room but to Azura, it was habit, perhaps even muscle memory, something she did without thinking. After centuries of keeping their bedroom shaded from the harmful rays of the sun, it wasn’t easy for the recently widowed woman to break the custom, doing so felt too much like letting go. Even as their room became solely hers, this room existing only to be lived in by one soul rather than two, Azura couldn’t bring herself to break the practice of shielding Akihito from harm. Just as he had always tried to shield her…died doing so.
  
  This however was not what the Mahoutokoro Potions Mistress was currently dwelling on. No, those thoughts were to be left buried deep within her soul until the proper time came for her to deal with them and that time was not the present. As she remained mostly standing, her rear leaning slightly against the large wooden desk provided within the room, her eyes were shut but she did not see the void of darkness behind her lids. Instead all around her the sky stretched on and on, clouds painting streaks above her and the rooftops of Ilvermorny just below. Dark wings cut through the air as Luca took up a glide and shifted in the sky to provide her with a better view of the grounds where students were making their way from their first day of classes.
  
  “Thank you, darling.” She projected to the crow as she got a better look at the students below.
  
  Among her many secret recipes she had decided to avoid sharing with the world was a potion that allowed for her to commune with an animal of her choosing as well as a potion that permitted her to see through their eyes. Both of these had been shared with her beloved companions Luca and Davos so they could become her eyes and ears when she needed them. In truth, this connection had saved her life more than once as both animals were able to alert her to dangers before they appeared thus giving her time, even just a few seconds, to prepare herself. Akihito had fondly nicknamed the duo ‘Me to Mimi’ and joked that with them around it meant they could watch her back while he watched her backside. That comment had earned him a playful scoff and eye roll at the time but now she would give anything to hear him say it again.
  
  A flash of movement caught her attention as through Luca’s eyes she spotted a familiar head of dark hair and bronze-streaked silverish robes. Altair. “Keep on him but not too close.” She advised Luca as the crow came to perch on a branch further up the tree from where the Mahoutokoro tenth year was retrieving the items he had clearly stashed there. As the young man withdrew his magic carpet and prepared for takeoff Luca continued to examine him, only taking flight once Altair had lifted off the ground giving the impression of being any old startled crow just like several others in the area. When the ever-lucky student took off through the sky Luca followed from a distance, the brightly colored comet of a boy hard to miss as he flew around the school.
  
  Knowing her students as she did Azura had little to no doubt that Altair was taking this chance to try and find Chitrita. Good. She needed to speak with both of them and now was as good a time as any to do so. Chahaya Arif’s words of warning about Chitrita’s behavior had certainly left Azura thinking. Of course, she didn’t blindly believe her former student, he may have been acting like the concerned professor trying to lend her a hand in catching her up on her student's behavior but she hadn’t forgotten who he was. He was a professor for an enemy school, he was a former champion of the tournament, and on top of that, he was a Legilimens or at least she was certain he had been. Her ability to seemingly sneak up on him earlier when he had been talking with Theodore West and the fact that he had failed to hear her when she mentally reached out to him all pointed to some disconnect in his abilities. Overall, Arif was far from the most reliable individual. However, she would believe that there could certainly be amounts of honesty woven into his trickery as oftentimes the best lies held a modicum of truth. When it came down to it she had no hesitation in believing that she would never receive the full truth of last night's matters from Arif or Pawar.
  
  The corner of her lightly glossed lips pulled with a slight smirk as Luca followed Altair to his makeshift landing strip and noticed that the young man was moving with determination now. Through the windows that lined the halls, Luca continued to track the Mahoutokoro student's movements until he suddenly stopped before a door. Perching on the stone lip of the window beside a few other birds Azura watched through Luca’s gaze as Altair knocked on the door only for it to open a few heartbeats later to Chitrita’s surprised face. “Very good darling. I’m on my way, let me know if they leave.” Azura projected to her companion as she opened her eyes and stood tall once more. At her side Davos sat with his attention turning from guarding her body as her mind was elsewhere to looking up at her. “Stay here Vos and I’ll send Luca back once I’ve made it to them.” She communed with the fox as he blinked up at her. “Thank you.” She added and ran her fingers through the soft, thick, ginger fur along his neck. When she was viewing the world through Luca’s eyes she ran the risk of leaving her body vulnerable with her mind focused elsewhere. With Davos at her side, however, she knew he would alert her to trouble or danger as he watched over her.
  
  Giving her beloved fox one final scratch under the chin Azura finally turned on her booted heels and exited her sleeping chambers. She kept herself alert to any updates from Luca as she made her way through the halls of the school with confident strides. Being alive for as long as she had came with the benefit of having visited many places including other schools, thus she had come to know many better than likely most visiting teachers and students would. Soon enough the chestnut-haired Potions Mistress was descending down the hall and towards the closed door of Chitrita’s room. Glancing over towards the window she gave Luca a nod, “Go back to Vos, he is waiting for you.” She instructed him, her internal voice kind and gentle with him as it had been with Davos. With that the crow took flight and as her whiskey-gold gaze watched him depart the sound of a crash boomed from behind her student's door. Without hesitation, Azura drew her wand and pushed the door open ready to defend her students against whoever had dared to attack them. The moment her eyes landed upon the duo she couldn’t help but mutter a few select Italian words and shake her head. “Layla-san I am going to say this once and I do not want to have to repeat myself.” She began in an all too calm manner which often meant the fires within her were burning hot as the hells. Flicking her wand the young man's pants shot back up his legs as his belt lifted into the air and repaired itself before looping and fastening itself back around his waist. “Do not lose your pants again or I will spell them onto you permanently.” She promised, her cognac gaze alight with a blaze telling how very seriously she meant her words. “Flashing others will gain us no points in this competition no matter what you may believe.”
  
  Turning her attention to both students now she slipped her wand away and nodded for them to sit, her foot pushing the door behind her shut. “Pawar-san as I’m sure you have either figured out or been informed by now, Layla-san has been sent from Mahoutokoro to act as your secondary in this tournament.” She began, her words and stance making it clear that this was officially their unofficial team meeting. Crossing her sheer cloth-covered arms the immortal witch looked over her students, carefully examining both for a moment. “Due to the circumstances that have led to this change in roster, I have made special arrangements for the two of you.” She continued, having been working on the necessary approvals for these arrangements since the moment she learned she would be taking over as chaperone. “Starting tomorrow you will both be following the same schedule. You will have the same classes, the same breaks, you are responsible for each other.” She made sure to meet Chitrita’s gaze as she spoke knowing that Altair was likely more than content to be required to look after the beautiful young lady and Chitrita would probably not feel the same on the matter. It was not a point that would be up for discussion though. These two were far from similar and Azura could not be there to keep an eye on both of them all day every day. Knowing her students as she did she believed that in doing this Pawar would keep Layla in line to avoid damaging her reputation and Layla would keep Pawar from causing further trouble such as that previously mentioned by Arif. “Understood?”
  
  
  
  Mentions: Altair TobiornotTobi Chitrita honeycoves
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[WanderLust.]

THEODORE WEST
HOGWARTS CHAMPION

Suspicious

The Phoenix Gay Bar

Chahaya Aviator

Click Me

“You two sure make a cute couple. How long have you been together?”

Theo remained dangerously still, bourbon settling in the back of his mouth as he cut a lethal gaze towards Cha-Cha who was busy coughing up a lung to his right, obviously just as taken aback by the comment as Theodore was, though processing it much differently. Theo eyed his glass of bourbon, which sat idly on the polished wooden bar table. Surmising that there were still a few decent sips left, he reached for the cup, knocking back its contents like he was taking a shot rather than savoring the flavor on his tongue the way he normally would.

Despite Cha-Cha’s feverish attesting to the contrary, Theodore responded to the overly curious bartender with a self-satisfactory grin, “Seven years. We met at university. He was an incessant flirt, wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to have dinner with him.”

The frail looking bartender offered a fawning smile in response, the kind of look people gave orphaned puppies at the pet store, as if to say ‘oh, how cute’. Theo remained just as unphased by the response as he was by the initial query, but having finished his drink, and sensing that Cha-Cha was anxious to depart, he rose to his feet with a curt nod. “Excuse us. Tequila always makes him frisky.”

Theo snickered to himself softly as they exited the hole-in-the-wall gay bar, making a mental note of their lenient age verification policies for future reference before turning to his raven haired companion with a smug little grin. “Chahaya Arif spotted at a local gay bar with an underaged male student. Stunning headline, don’t you think? What would your colleagues think of such an exposition?” Admittedly, his tone had become more playful than sinister, perhaps it was the alcohol that was making Theo slightly more pleasant to be around, still the taunt lingered in the air as they pondered what their next move was.

Eventually, they ended up at the kind of bar that Theo would never willingly patronize but for its likelihood of catering to the type of girls Theo would patronize. The interior looked like it had been designed by a divorcee, intent on finally being able to decorate with colors and patterns her sensible ex husband would never have allowed. He was willing to place a fair amount of money on the likelihood that her drink of choice was a rosé sangria.

Cha-Cha was nothing if not consistent, once again insisting on covering Theo’s tab and purchasing another round of drinks for the pair of them. Perhaps if Theo had not already been plied with a decent amount of alcohol provided by the wispy little bartender at the Phoenix, he would’ve been more scrutinous of Arif’s generosity. But, as it was, Theo was content to sit back on one of the brightly colored velvet couches and entertain the monotonous line of small talk the former convict threw at him. He remained aloof with his answers, never offering more than what was asked of him, but careful (well, as careful as a semi-intoxicated seventeen year old could be) not to rouse any suspicions with his lack of specificity.

Theo tried not to breathe an obvious sigh of relief when the professor suggested a round of billiards. Though he wasn’t much good at it, it was a welcome change of pace from their earlier conversations. When the pool table began to bore them, they switched to ping pong, which was even more entertaining for the Hogwarts champion. He imagined that, by the time Theo was done with him, Arif would be sporting several bright red welts the size of ping pong balls scattered across various limbs.

Throughout the entirety of both games, Cha-Cha had ordered more rounds. Theo had lost count of how many bourbons on the rocks he had downed, his brain buzzing pleasantly with the sheer absence of thought. Though, by the time he started seeing two ping pong balls instead of one, he decided to retire to one of the velour couches, the world beginning to spin slowly clockwise as he sunk into the worn cushions and eyed a singular corn dog sitting solitary on the table. The thought briefly passed his mind that he should probably eat something, though he likely would’ve forgotten such a responsible notion had Cha-Cha not nudged the fried delicacy towards him.

“Tell me, was she okay when you guys left the infirmary?”

Arif’s voice sounded like he was speaking underwater, echoing and bubbling unnaturally in Theodore’s ears. He had to repeat the phrase in his mind a few times before he was able to comprehend what the professor was even asking him. She? Who was she? Who had they been talking about?

Chitrita.

The thought was a sobering one, and for some reason Theo began to feel a familiar pit forming in his stomach at the sudden awareness of his own intoxication. A compromised mind was a weak one, and he was sitting across the table from a snake with teeth and venom and-

The sound of glass clattering brought Theo’s attention back to the present moment, snapping to attention like a fawn in the woods who had just heard a twig snap. Any pleasant intoxication drained from him, replaced with a cold apprehension that warned him to proceed with caution. The snake was still a snake, and its tail was rattling as if it were about to strike.

“Why are you so interested in Chitrita?” Theodore asked coyly, reaching for the solitary corn dog and taking a bite. Chewing slowly as if he were lost in thought. “Arif, you didn’t bring me all the way out here and ply me with alcohol in the hopes that I would give you the details on that pretty little thing did you? She’s a bit young for you…” Theo seemed to be weighing the possibility, clearly questioning Cha-Cha’s motives and yet still debating whether or not he wanted to reveal his own cards.

“Regardless, I don’t give information like that away for free.” He paused, his eyes briefly straying towards Arif’s discarded fedora which sat between the pair on the blush fabric of the couch cushions. For a moment, he debated whether or not he would be willing to disclose any intel he had on the pretty little Mahoutokoro student for a chance to relieve the snake of that god forsaken hat - but there were too many intangibles in place to determine whether or not the information Theo possessed was worth such a nominal price.

Theo didn’t know what dirt Cha-Cha was looking for, or, more importantly, why he was looking for it. Only that he didn’t believe the professor’s facade of gratitude and concern. Theo had only known Chitrita for a brief time, granted… he had gotten quite familiar with her in that time. He fondly reminisced on the way her lips had moved against his own last night in the maze-like corridors of the Ilvermorny castle. She had smelled faintly of mandarin oranges and some other herb he couldn’t quite place. He knew very little about Chitrita apart from the fact that she was tantalizingly attractive and one hell of a good kisser. Did he really want to risk getting on her bad side to appease this virtual stranger he owed no loyalty to?

“It’s getting late, Professor.” That last word was laced with an edge as if the term were an insult. “We should probably be heading back to campus.”

coded by natasha.

 

[Aviator]

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

Theodore’s question hovered dangerously in the air, an executioner’s axe ready to fall. Cha-Cha looked up from the spilled remnants of his drink instantly. The boy’s jaw was clenched, his eyes screwed up, and Cha-Cha felt his own growing wariness reflected there, albeit for a very different reason. Perhaps the Hogwarts champion wasn’t as boozed up as Cha-Cha had thought, or perhaps his prodding hadn’t had the finesse he’d been going for. The silence stretched as Theodore took a leisurely bite of his corn dog, the cleft in his chin bobbing slowly as he chewed. Feeling like the world was suddenly moving too fast, Cha-Cha parted his lips to answer, unsure what would come out but knowing that a prolonged silence would look guilty. But Theodore swallowed and cut him off in a voice that was tempered steel, the words unhurried and evenly spaced in the way of a man who knows he has the upper hand.
At that moment, the cocktail waitress arrived with Cha-Cha’s new mojito, sparing him from immediately answering. He accepted it with a smile and complimented her long dangly dreamcatcher earrings. She returned the smile, said that she’d bought them from some shop he’d never heard of, and dissipated back into the pink smoke and reflective surfaces of the club. Drink in hand, Cha-Cha leaned back into the velour cushions, his fingers leaving smears in the condensation of the tall, cylindrical glass. “Hey, now, incessant flirt that I am, seven years means something. I would never go behind your back, Theodore,” he deflected blithely, rehashing the charade his companion had laid on the bartender of the previous establishment. Cha-Cha put on a smile that felt thin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.” He raised an eyebrow playfully over his drink as he took a sip. Followed by four more strong pulls, which was all his stomach could take before it twisted.
His humor apparently did little to endear himself to Theodore, as it was met with a quick dismissal. The English boy did that thing where he emptied his face of emotion again, and his eyes were two dark abyssal pits staring soullessly at Cha-Cha. He’s protecting her, Cha-Cha thought. Perhaps there really is some relationship between them, because he won’t budge. Does he feel like he owes her something? But what could it be? And why, if they just met last night? Cha-Cha was losing Theodore, and unless he did some rapid damage control, he would never get his answers. Today’s outing and all the money and alcohol and precious time that encompassed would be for nothing. “Theodore, I’m sorry if I said or did something to put you on edge. I was just asking out of concern for a student whom I feel responsible for because I exposed her to a distressing situation last night.”
His words had the effect of falling on deaf ears. Theodore was staring off into the middle distance, as if he was having an important, mildly troubling thought. The song shifted into a languorous Lana Del Rey ballad about butterflies and cartoon eyes and diamonds. Cha-Cha sighed. As if that soft noise had jolted him from his thoughts, Theodore’s gaze sharpened. It was the haughty look of a saint confronting a sinner. He spat out the word Professor as if to remind Cha-Cha of his place—which was in a classroom, preferably on the exact opposite side of Ilvermorny Castle from wherever Theodore might be at any given point in time—and that his current behavior was not befitting of the role. “Ah, I appear to have lost track of time. I’m glad that one of us is staying on top of things.” Cha-Cha felt a dull ache between his ribs that might have been disappointment. Oddly, though, it wasn’t directed so much at his failure to gather information as at himself. Theodore’s barb had stung because it was true. Cha-Cha was a joke to everything a professor stood for. Criminal, addict, the world’s worst therapist, and now, utterly incompetent without his powers. He had only gotten the role because the headmistress of Castelobruxo thought he was some glittering bauble she sought to add to her collection.
He downed the rest of his drink, relishing the melancholy that spiked through him. “C’mon, Theo, wouldn’t want you to be late for your next class.” Pushing would get Cha-Cha nowhere, and if it drove Theodore to tattle to his professor, it would just make the consequences worse. In retrospect, inviting a minor out for drinks at all had been a reckless move, especially now that Theodore—rightfully—thought Cha-Cha had done it with an ulterior motive. But in the adrenaline rush of burning down a rival professor’s rooms last night, it had seemed like a marginal risk, easy to overlook. And Cha-Cha knew from experience that it was the simple mistakes that came back to bite. He put his fedora on at a jaunty angle and stood up from the couch. It was early afternoon now and the lounge had gathered a small crowd. Women in cocktail dresses and pumps mingled with men in blue jeans and blazers over elegantly plated deep-fried appetizers. Four late-twenties laughed loudly over some joke as they passed a pen around a glass table.
Cha-Cha dodged a knot of people clustered inconveniently in his path to the bar. Once there, he ordered a double-shot of Pinnacle Whipped Vodka, neat, and paid a tab that one would expect from a multicourse dinner at a fancy restaurant. Mathematics had always come easily to him, and he taught an unpopular statistics elective at Castelobruxo, but he stood there for a moment, befuddled, trying to conjure a number that was between a fifth and a fourth of the bill. When he finished, Theodore was waiting by the door, looking pointedly not at Cha-Cha. Cha-Cha brushed past him. He hadn’t realized he’d been shivering in the club until he walked outside, and the late-August air enfolded him. “Gimme ten minutes,” he responded curtly to a question about when and where they would Apparate from. “Less take a walk, ‘kay? Enjoy the day.” He thought it showed a lot of restraint on his part not to throw a curse somewhere in there, the non-magical type. He walked a little ahead of Theodore, feeling profoundly alone and unwanted and dreading the return to Ilvermorny, where he would feel even more profoundly alone and unwanted.
They walked in silence. Time felt like a passing blur, but judging from the dark, foreboding clouds that swallowed the sun, it at least looked as if they had walked for more than ten minutes. Cha-Cha wasn’t sure where he was going and didn’t care. Anywhere discreet with a view of the mountain—which was hard not to find, as the granite monolith had the whole town in its shadow—would do. Eventually, they happened upon the lake that they had arrived at. It was devoid of fishermen, all of them having likely departed in the face of the impending gloom. He attempted to turn to Theodore, spun a little too far around, and righted himself. “This is the part where you hold my hand and we do the Care Bear Stare,” he said in a stage whisper. They awkwardly clasped arms whilst standing as far apart as they could, neither of them very successful in hiding the faces they made. Cha-Cha stopped the wind from snatching his hat with his free hand and eyed the red-and-blue tower spires that stabbed the sky, way high up on the mountain. He focused on the wind until it was a roar in his ears, lifting his hair off his neck and making his button-down bell out. The air washed over him until he was part of it, and he and Theodore dissolved, scattered to ashes.
A splash of liquid struck his cheek as pine-dotted hills manifested around them. Cha-Cha swiped away what he thought was a raindrop only for his fingers to come away scarlet. At the same time, Theodore bellowed, an ear-splitting cry that rang off cliffs and galvanized a nesting murder of crows into flight. Cha-Cha jumped away from him, startled, just as the Hogwarts champion crumpled to the ground. The sleeve of his sweater had been sliced away to reveal a mangled mess of red. Deep gouges encircled his arm from shoulder to elbow. Severed bits of sinew dangled, and at one particularly gory junction, his humerus peeked through.
Cha-Cha’s knees hit the ground beside Theodore. His cry of agony had broken off into soft moaning, and he curled around his injured arm. Blood trickled down into the ragged remnants of his sweater, filling the air with a metallic stench. Cha-Cha hovered over him, hands outstretched and hanging uselessly, terrified that his attempts to help would hurt Theodore instead. He’d always been better at dealing damage than healing it. For a few moments, he knelt there mutely, crushed beneath the weight of a wall of horror, shock, and guilt. Gut-twisting, heart-stopping guilt. Meanwhile, blood spurted from the wounds, staining the grass around Theodore at an alarming rate. Jarred into action, Cha-Cha ripped off the button-down he wore over his sweater and awkwardly tied it off into his best estimation of a tourniquet around Theodore’s arm. “Apa yang telah kulakukan?” he breathed at no one and nothing, drowned out by another howl of pain.
His hands were gloved in ruby and shaking when he withdrew them. Cha-Cha wet his lips. “Theodore, I can’t believe— This is all my f— Oh my god.” He broke off, panting, caught his breath, and tried again. “I wish I knew how to help you. But I don’t. I’m going to get someone who can. Just… don’t move.” He swallowed. If he didn’t move fast, the boy may very well lose his arm. Theodore’s eyes were fluttering. Cha-Cha lurched to his feet, and the ground spun like a top. A flash of lightning turned everything momentarily white. He had to go. He didn’t know who he would find, but he had to find someone who could help. A bonus if the person could be trusted to keep the whole incident under wraps, but right now not necessary. And then a thought struck Cha-Cha: Not only would he take the fall for intoxicating and then subsequently Splinching a student, but it was very likely that Theodore’s championship would be endangered if word got out that he’d skipped class to go to town and drink underage. No, for Theodore’s sake, discretion was necessary. An arm could be healed. But Theodore would never forgive him if Cha-Cha’s foolishness stripped him of his right to participate in a first-of-its-kind tournament.
The wrought iron gates of Ilvermorny loomed in the distance, and Cha-Cha raced for them, ignoring the nauseating slosh of liquor in his stomach and the long reeds of grass that lashed against his legs. He caught the toe of his boot on a rocky mound and pitched forward, peeled himself up off the ground, and resumed his mad dash. It was midday and one of the gates stood open, and he shot through it like a bullet from a gun. Running from Muggle police as a child and then from Aurors as a young adult was a skill that he had honed under trial by fire, but stopping on a dime was not. He plowed into a Latino boy in sandy-colored robes, stopped just long enough to ascertain that he was not egregiously hurt, and continued on his way, rocketing up the stone steps that led to a pair of doors marked with a Gordian knot. Cha-Cha’s breath burned in his chest and tore through his throat.
Theodore’s professor, he thought wildly as the first floor of the castle stretched before him. I need to find the Hogwarts professor! Not only would the professor—a tall, long-nosed, stern-looking man that Cha-Cha had glimpsed at the Opening Ceremony but whose name he couldn’t remember for the life of him—be more likely than a student to know how to heal Theodore, but it would suit his interests for word of his student’s excursion to stay a secret. Or else Toro-san might not be the only foreign professor getting replaced within the first week of the tournament. Alongside Cha-Cha himself, of course.
Please for fuck's sake be in your office like a good, responsible prof, he thought furiously. Remembering that the office he’d been assigned was blessedly on the second floor, he only had one more flight of stairs to clamber up, taking them two at a time. His stomach disagreed with this approach, and halfway up Cha-Cha slumped against the rail as it seized. He breathed deeply until the dangerous moment passed. Now was not the time to vomit. Substantially slower, he trudged up the remaining stairs.
Cha-Cha found himself in a carpeted hallway lined with doors on both sides, the occasional potted plant, and the pervasive smell of coffee. It was almost disturbingly quiet compared to the stream of chatter of students lunching in the Great Hall. He knocked a framed picture askew with his shoulder as he dragged himself down the hall, throwing frantic glances at the various plaques on the doors, hoping that one of the names would ring a bell. A guilty shiver crept down his spine as he passed what was to be his own office, knowing that the inside would be vacant and dark and neglected. There were only six other foreign professors, and Cha-Cha knew the names of half of them off the top of his head, and of the ones he didn’t, only two of them were men. How hard could this possibly— He paused in front of the last door on the right. Faron Bellamy. That seemed familiar. Was that right to seem familiar? Cha-Cha bit his lip in hesitation. Then, seeing no better alternative, he pounded on the door. “Hey, uh, Faron? Faron Bellamy?” he called tentatively through the wood. Another round of pounding. “I reaaaalllllly need you now if you’re in there, man. It’s about, um—” He broke off, deciding it unwise to shout the nature of this problem for anyone else who might be in the hall to hear.
There was the sound of chair legs scraping over floor. And then footsteps. Relief overcame Cha-Cha, and he swayed like a boxer on his last legs. The door opened, revealing a pale, boxy-faced man with dark curls, a halfhearted goatee, and a remarkably flat mouth and eyebrows. Cha-Cha couldn’t help thinking that he looked like a pug if a pug had had a door slammed in its face many times over, and despite the gravity of the situation, he stifled a bubble of laughter. The effect was multiplied as the man presumed to be Faron Bellamy twisted his face into a sailor’s knot of revulsion at the sight of his colleague. His bloodied, muddied, sweaty, disheveled colleague with a crooked fedora who probably reeked of a dive bar.
Cha-Cha put on his most charming smile and lowered his voice. “Hiya, Faron. Nice to meet’cha." It did not occur to him to introduce himself, as—for better or worse—his reputation often preceded him in Wizarding circles. "Listen. One your students been Splinched. I’ll go into the details later, but we need some Essence of Dittany, sekarang. And you know what? There’s at least one Potions professor in this hall with an office that we can prolly get some from. Unless you happen to have some of that stuff, you know, just chilling? ‘Cuz that would be sooooo convenient if you did. But, uh, I dun’ really know how to use that stuff, so that’s where you come in. Hopefully. Mengerti? Aight?”

 

[WanderLust.]

KIARA SINCLAIRE
BEAUXBATONS SECONDARY

Charmed

Ilvermorny Corrdiors

Sigurd TobiornotTobi

Click Me!

After her brief interaction with Gavy, Kiara got comfortable in her seat, opening her light blue colored notebook to a blank page and penning the date, followed by the words “History of Magic” in practiced calligraphy. The rest of class was fairly uneventful. Kiara took dutiful notes on the many subjects they covered, but she still felt as though she were already falling behind. The remainder of the hour passed quickly, so quickly in fact, that Kiara was still scribbling last minute thoughts in her notebook, trying to retain everything Professor Einar had said, when the jarring sound of the school bell forced her to look up from her toiling. With a mildly discouraged look, she finished writing the end of her sentence with annoyingly perfect penmanship before gently flipping her book shut and shoving it in her bag.

She stood slowly, the way she always did. Rising too quickly was notorious for triggering a tachycardic episode, and Kiara did not want to further characterize herself on the first day of classes as the girl who had crashed into a fellow student and then fainted for good measure. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly as she got to her feet, as if focusing enough would help her will away the dizziness pulsing through her. The entire world felt as though it were lopsided, tilted slightly to the left and progressing at more and more of an incline until she was just about sure she was going to fall over, and then-

A gentle tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality, the world righted itself and Kiara blinked once, twice, before turning around to see who had requested her attention. Her sapphire gaze landed on the same boy from earlier, Mr. Berg, as Professor Einar had called him. The one who had dropped a hefty textbook on her still aching foot. She waited for him to say something, an uncomfortably long silence prolonging between them. Was this some sort of intimidation tactic? Was she about to be reprimanded for her innate clumsiness? Just as she parted her lips to offer a second apology for the events that had taken place before class, Mr. Berg cleared his throat.

“Ms. Sinclaire, I would like to formally apologize for my conduct at the beginning of class. I lashed out when I shouldn't have and made a fool of myself in front of the entire class...and you as well.”

Kiara wasn’t sure what color she was at that moment, she imagined quite pale as her ears were ringing in protest of her dangerously low blood sugar levels, and yet her cheeks felt as though they were burning the brightest shade of red possible. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Berg continued his apology further.

"Not that I think that you're a fool at all, it is just what the class may have been thinking after we..."

Finally, Kiara interrupted him, struggling to get a word in edgewise. “It’s Kiara…” She paused, offering him a reassuring smile. “You can call me Kiara.”

Her hand reached out to shake the one he had offered, “And, don’t worry. You haven’t made any enemies.” She laughed softly, “If anything, I think you might’ve earned yourself a friend.”

Just like that, Kiara had gone from fearing the unpredictable young man to finding him rather endearing. “I didn’t see you at the opening ceremony yesterday…” the end of the sentence hung in the air as more of a question than a statement. “Though I take it from your garments that you hail from Durmstrang?” She eyed the fur coat that he held in his left hand despite the rather mild August weather.

Without waiting for his answer, Kiara turned and began to follow the rest of the students in their class as they filed out the narrow doorway of the History of Magic classroom, seemingly expecting him to walk with her. Once he fell in line with her decidedly slow pace, she continued the conversation, hoping her labored steps would go unnoticed if she kept him talking. “What should I call you?” there was a note of playfulness in her voice, “... or does everyone call you Mr. Berg?” She wasn’t sure where she was going, rather she wasn’t walking with any real destination in mind. If anything, she was following the crowd, which seemed to be leading them back towards the mess hall.

coded by natasha.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Aurelia Quansah

• 
  
  
  
  Aurelia Quansah
  Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary
  
  
  
  Once Care For Magical Creatures came to an end and the class broke apart Auri was swift to rush off into a private corner of the large hedge rows that surrounded the school and get to work on counter-jinxing herself. She could have very easily performed the spell in public but decided it was best to save face and tend to such matters in private, just as her Grandmother had always taught her. The world was not to know when she was vulnerable because just like a limping lion she would all too easily open herself to falling into the gnashing jaws of hungry hyenas. Not even bothering to pull out the wand she carried for show Auri’s hands moved in elegant patterns as she wordlessly cast her counter-jinx, the Finite Incantatem flowing through her mind as her magis expelled itself from her fingertips and vanquished the jinx from within her. “The Aguamenti spell, better known as the Water-Making Spell, produces jets of clean and drinkable water from the caster’s want. While able to create a trickle or a wave of water the spell cannot be used against magical fire unless cast as Aguamenti Macima.” She pulled the lines of the text from the inner walls of her mind as a test to ensure her words flowed as freely as the water in the mentioned spell and without any unexpected twists. In a way the simple act of reciting the fact brought a sense of calm to her soul, grounding her and allowing her to feel at peace once more.
  
  As per usual she was the target of what she could only imagine was a very insecure Vasu. All respect she may or may not have developed for the young man vanishing the moment she realized he had jinxed her. For what though? Because she is the competition? She is a secondary, not the champion for her school so while in a way it may hinder Uagadou it would far from cripple their chances of performing well. For running an errand for a professor? Would he have done any differently if he had been directly asked, she didn’t think so. For being able to answer questions in class? If he is that insecure then she has less than absolutely no respect for him, it makes him no different than almost everyone else in her life which she can’t help but find pathetic. Any confidence he carries himself with is nothing but a sham and she rolls her eyes at the thought of how incredibly unoriginal he turned out to be when faced with someone who showed the slightest ounce of self-worth and pride. How swiftly he had found that she needed to be torn down just to make him feel better. Yup, pathetic.
  
  Taking a moment in her private corner to stand and smooth her blue linen mushanana which hung elegantly over her shoulder and falling across her chest Auri gathered her belongings and exited the hedges. Her tan leather mary janes were practically soundless as she crossed the lawn and returned into the massive structure that was Ilvermorny. She wasn’t exactly certain of where she would go or what she planned to do with her free time now. The thought of returning to the library and burying her nose in a book was rather appealing but she also felt that despite only being on the campus for a day she was in need of some reprieve, at least from the castle itself. Her mind danced from corridor to corridor of the palace of knowledge it held as she tried to find some semblance of an idea of how to make herself feel even the slightest amount of relaxation after the day she had been through. Truly not one of her worst but still an unpleasant day nonetheless. Suddenly the tiny version of Aurelia that had been venturing through her mind palace opened a door and was met with a wonderful idea. During her travels to Ilvermorny she had spent some time looking over the maps of the vast school grounds and remembered that along with a quidditch pitch they had a riding obstacle course set up on the Westernmost reaches of the campus. Since it was on school grounds and the quidditch season had yet to begin she was more than happy to assume it would be open for students to use.
  
  Decision made Auri pivoted down a hall that would lead towards the dorms and was set on reaching hers to retrieve her broom when she spotted a familiar set of figures just ahead of her. Mey and Ramona. She had seen the two of them wander off together after class and for a moment she found herself hesitating to approach and interrupt their conversation. They had seemed rather chummy with Vasu after all and Auri was far from in the mood of having to dispel another jinx today. Before she could make a decision on if she would leave or cut through their conversation Ramona turned away from Mey and disappeared around the corner leaving the other young woman standing alone. A few heartbeats passed as Auri gave time for Mey to move or Ramona to return but nothing happened. Finally clearing her throat her deep onyx gaze observed Mey’s brown locks fan out as she whipped around to face her. “Mey, right?” She inquired with a gentle smile pulling at her full lips. In truth, she knew it wouldn’t be fair to judge the young woman for Vasu’s actions. “Aurelia.” She introduced herself to spare any inconvenience or embarrassment that might stem from forgotten names. “So…I was thinking of snagging my broom and taking on the Ilvermorny obstacle course. I’ve heard it is occasionally used by a few competitive teams in the USA. Do you fly?” Her voice was calm and casual as she inquired about the brunette’s ability to handle a broom. Depending on how Mey responded she found herself not opposed to the idea of inviting the girl along.
  
  
  
  Mentions: Mey honeycoves
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Altair Ibn Layla​

Chitrita's Dorm(!)​

"Least I wasn't wearing my Wonder Woman underoos..."​

---

With every passing second, Altair's panic grew. This wasn't a dream, which meant that he really did have his pants torn off in front of one of the most popular girls at Mahoutokoro. Another story for the boys back home! Minus the context of course. But thar was if he survived to tell the tale. "...You're probably wondering what just happened," Altair began, putting his hands up. "And let me tell you, it's quite the interesting story!"

At that moment, Altair nearly suffered a heart attack as he heard the doorknob twist and the door itself swinging open to reveal a battle-ready Professor Ito. Upon inspecting the scene, her expression softened ever so slightly. But when it came to her, that meant nothing, and Altair knew as much. "...Oopsie poopsie?" He uttered sheepishly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did, as Altair flinched in the face of his professor raising her wand casting a spell. "ProfessorIdidn'tmeanitdon'tkillme!" He sputtered out, arms shielding his face.

But when the Mahoutokoro student opened his eyes, he was still standing. Patting his hands over his body, it was eventually discovered that his pants were now back up his legs and his belt restored, albeit the left leg was still torn apart, exposing his bare leg. It appeared as though fate had spared him yet again, except he still had to explain why his pants had self-destructed. But Professor Ito's hard as a rock gaze left him stammering before he could even begin. "I..." He started. "Case..." Another hard stop. "Reducio..." Finally, he gave up. His curly hair got in his face as he drooped his head and received a chastising from her. This was seriously out of order, the Hajar would never leave him in a situation like that. He should've gotten some sort of warning about his suitcase. But before he could feel bad for himself, something else that was unfamiliar to the student, he was directed to have a seat. For as long as he could remember, his life was full of highs, and even the lows were easily shaken off. Now he just felt like crap, with no end in sight. Altair grabbed a chair from one of the desks in the room and pulled it in front of Professor Ito, ready for whatever came next. He could never discern what he was in for when it came to her. Back in Japan, she would give him the same face right before complimenting him on a passing exam, or right before scolding him for intentionally causing an explosion while crafting a potion. Oh dear God, are we gonna get a talk about the birds and the bees?

When the impromptu lecture didn't begin with Professor Ito stating, 'When a man and a woman love each other very much', Altair zoned out. His fingers reached for his necklace and rubbed the eternally smooth surface of the Hajar. Despite his pants having been sort of restored, he still felt exposed to the world. Which was probably because of the left leg, but still. He didn't like the feeling and he hoped it would dissipate soon. His ears perked up as he caught the end of Professor Ito's last sentence. What was this about special arrangements? Immediately, Altair received his answer, color returning to his face. He looked to her with an eyebrow raised and a smile back on his face. Pride filled his chest at the implication that she had total faith in his ability to protect Chitrita. Bodyguarding aside, this trip just got a whole lot more fun. Here he was, a hot guy in the constant presence of a hot girl. And hot girls know hot girls, so if he played his cards right, he could have a serious babepocalypse on his hands! Oh, Chitrita was gonna be responsible for him, alright! Responsible for him having a good time! Altair cleared his throat and tried to put on a serious expression.

"Professor, first off, I am flattered by your choice," He began, confidence and bravado back in the mix. "I told Chitrita already, but she's got nothing to worry about! I mean, she's got the school daredevil on her side! Plus, you're talking to the guy with near perfect marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts! Professor Ito was the best--" But then, taking in the looks of his professor and classmate, Altair realized that he touched a sore spot. "...Sorry," He apologized for bringing up the late Akihito Ito. Altair wasn't a very studious wizard, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the few classes he enjoyed. And that was primarily because of Professor Ito. He taught the class in a way that sucked everyone's attention like a vampire sucking blood. Plus, he was a vampire, so classes were often held at night and in the field to take notes. An ongoing joke between the two was that if Altair finished his final year with perfect marks in both his and his wife's classes, he would turn him into a vampire. His death hit Altair hard, despite his happy-go-lucky disposition. It was the first time someone close to him had passed away.

"Point stands, though," He continued. "All you gotta worry about is winning this competition." In the middle of the meeting, Altair turned his suitcase on its side and began riffled through its contents mid-meeting. Emerging with another pair of jeans, he undid his current pair, stuffed the remains in his case, and began putting on the new one. "Also, does this mean I have the same classes as her, or does she have the same as me?" He asked while fitting his leg into one of the holes.

 

[Aviator]

Vasu Saini // “the Snake Charmer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​

Vasu leaned forward in his seat as he waited for Nyache’s consternation. But when it was not forthcoming, and the Uagadou professor’s reaction was quite the opposite, Vasu’s lurid interest dowsed itself like a flame snuffing out. As Nyache rose in triumph, fist-bumping the table when he had no one else to share it with, Vasu’s mouth thinned. Yes, and not a minute passes in class where everyone isn’t reminded about her star-student status, he thought sullenly. He had hoped for Darweshi to get really quiet while he processed this disturbing news. A subtle furrowing of the brow. And for hell to be unleashed on Aurelia when her professor was done pimping out cookies like a girl scout with a wagon.
Speaking of which. Vasu was owed something for his time and information, false as it was. While he personally had no taste for chocolate chip cookies, someone else might. Perhaps they’d even be willing to pay for them on a dollar-a-cookie basis. If Vasu could sell a whole tray’s worth, maybe—just maybe—he’d have enough cash to buy a cheap bottle of liquor to celebrate the end of this wretched day. And my championship, he thought superiorly, relishing something that Quansah didn’t have.
That was, if he could intercept Nyache before he escaped. As if eager to shout the news of an impending, adolescent wedding from the rooftops, the big man had beelined for the door of the Kempe Room with startling speed for one his size. Vasu leapt out of his chair. “Professor, I believe—” he started, but that was as far as he got. Standing outside the door, like a creepy jump scare, was the pale, willowy figure of Naomi Eun Hai. She was dressed in a thin and papery garment reminiscent of a hospital robe, and her feet were bare. Vasu sucked in his cheeks at her peculiar fashion choice, but this was Naomi, trademark Beauxbatons weirdo who’d somehow made it to the International Quidditch Cup the year before last and won. Her paper dress and robe might have been the equivalent of someone else’s blue jeans and graphic tee. Any concern for deeper meaning to her attire was washed away by the infinitely more pressing concern for the sugary currency Vasu was about to collect.
In a voice as sweet as lemonade, Naomi addressed Vasu. Yet she didn’t elaborate, leaving the purpose of her address a mystery. “Yup, that’s my name,” he replied boredly. Had she just happened to find her way up to the Kempe Room at the same time as Nyache and him, or had she sought him out? Vasu was fairly certain that his ability to track people by their individual scents was a fairly unique one, but maybe Naomi had reptilian ancestry too. Or was this some other trick up her sleeve that he’d find out about over the course of the tournament?
Nyache stepped forward, extending a hand toward the mysteriously arrived young woman. Finally, he was expressing concern. Just a minute too late and over something trivial. The irony of the timing wasn’t lost on Vasu. “Maybe some cookies will make her feel better, Professor,” he said drily. But Nyache didn’t so much as look at him, and Vasu felt frustration snap in him like a muscle pulled taut. Fine, then. If the only way to wrangle the Cookie Monster’s attention was to get Naomi on his side, then he would. Split profits were better than no profit. “The cookie you gave me was so delicious that I would love some more, if you can spare them!” he said brightly, infusing pointed false cheer into his voice to remind the Uagadou professor what he was owed. Gods above, her stupid shoes can wait if she’s come this far without them.
Nyache swiveled to Vasu, but before he could give a reassuring response, there was a garble of sound as the intercom crackled to life. A reedy voice overhead said, “This message is for the committee of international professors. Please note that there is a meeting in Room 220 today at one o’clock. Your attendance is mandatory as we make some announcements regarding the upcoming tournament. Thank you in advance, and please make every effort to be on time despite the short notice.” A pause, and then the message replayed in a somewhat more tedious tone. Vasu checked his watch. One o’clock was roughly half an hour away. Good, so Nyache wouldn’t have an excuse to hang around after delivering on his promise. The last thing Vasu needed was a shadow preventing him from getting any preparations for the tournament done. Or worse, reporting on his preparations to Quansah and her pack.
“Guess you have to be on your way soon, Professor.” What a shame. He bit his tongue. While Nyache fussed over Naomi and no one was paying him any mind, Vasu dug in his pocket for the enchanted coin, the one with the wizard’s hat on one side and the serpent’s tail on the other. It had been one of his very first magical creations during one of his shifts at his parents’ shop, back when Ekta was in her toddler phase and Vasu was eagerly awaiting his admissions letter to Koldovstoretz, and the two of them played with Legos together and attended temple in matching outfits. He thought with wistful purpose about the prospect of getting drunk tonight and flipped the coin. It flashed in the warm light of the gaslamps, emitting a cheery chime! as it soared up in a high arc. Vasu caught it. Flipped it. And internally cursed; tails predicted bad luck.
He had tuned out of Nyache and Naomi’s conversation, but when he looked up from pocketing his coin, the Beauxbatons girl’s bright interest was trained on him like searchlights. Disappointment at the long night of sobriety ahead steeped through him. When he addressed Naomi, his voice was heavy with a sigh. “Did you want something?” It was the kind of tone that city dwellers use when a stranger unexpectedly approaches them on the sidewalk when they have somewhere to be. Naomi was neither a champion nor a pureblood, so Vasu saw little to gain from associating with her. The Muggleborn kids at Koldovstoretz were notoriously weird, thumbing away at little rectangular screens and wearing odd-looking helmets around campus through which music could ostensibly be heard. He didn’t particularly want to hang out with Naomi, especially if alcohol wasn’t involved, and he still had that commitment at the gym to uphold. Or setting up a bake sale in the courtyard, if he ever got those cookies at the price of enduring Nyache’s presence just a little bit longer. Hopefully, though, the professors’ meeting—whatever it was about—meant that Vasu could go about his business without the Wine Man breathing down his neck.

 

[Pyroclast]

Auguste Lovell
Beauxbaton champion, sixth year
Wednesday 28th August 2024 // Lunar phase: third quarter​

At some point during the sixteen hour journey from Paris to Massachusetts, most people would have managed to get a modicum of rest. Not Auguste Lovell - he had been stuck awake for far longer than was natural, held hostage by his anxious mind. Since his name had been expectorated from the Goblet of Fire just one day ago, Auguste had ridden a rollercoaster of emotions: disbelief, anger, dread, panic, sadness... How could it have happened? He had known better than to enter himself into a high-profile international tournament when he had only been practicing magic for two years and had both a disability and a heavily stigmatised disease. Yet, somehow, his name had got into the mix.

With the first challenge imminent, Auguste had no time to prepare himself. He was to pack his bags and leave that very night. There was no time for a ceremonious send-off from the school; no time to find out what had happened to the initial champion, Raphael, who had apparently never shown up; no time to work out why or how Auguste had ended up being selected as a last-minute replacement. He hadn't even time to write to his mother and let her know what was happening.

Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry perched the crest of Mount Greylock like a queen upon her throne, proudly watching over her empire below. Auguste watched through the passenger window as his taxi rumbled along the steep, winding road up through the coniferous forest. Like Beauxbatons, the castle itself had been obscured by a shroud of magic to keep muggles unaware of its existence, and Auguste had to wonder if the road leading up to it was also blocked off somehow, if no one outside of the magic society were able to enjoy the same scenic drive that he was experiencing. After a time, the gentle rumbling of the car dulled his senses until his eyes closed and his heavy head began to slide down the hand it was resting on.

It was only when the door opened that he jolted awake. By the time he climbed out, the driver was already passing Auguste’s suitcase to a student waiting by the front entrance. He heard the student say the words ‘Beauxbatons Academy of Magic’ in that round, smooth accent he had only ever heard on the big screen. The boy even looked like a movie star, with jet black floppy hair and a jawline that could cut through steel. Auguste trudged over to where they were waiting for him, so tired that he was barely able to appreciate the grandeur of the castle’s exterior.

“August Lovell?” the student read from a piece of paper, before extending a hand with a beaming smile. “I’m Patrick Mulaney, a prefect here at the school. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to Ilvermorny!” He somehow managed to butcher both Auguste’s first and last name, managing to rhyme the latter with the word ‘grovel’.

“Auguste Lovell,” he corrected him, placing extra emphasis on the accents of his name, and shook his hand dutifully. It must have made his French accent sound thicker, because Patrick’s smile wavered slightly and he said, “You speak English, August?”

“Perfectly,” Auguste assured him with a smile, though it wasn’t entirely true - the rural commune he had grown up in had never seen much traffic from tourists, and especially not ones from overseas, and so he had only really dedicated himself to learning the language when he moved to Paris to go to Beauxbatons.

Patrick carried Auguste’s luggage as he took him on a whistlestop tour of the school. It was all he could do to appear like he was listening as he followed, with the English words seeming to turn to sludge as they entered Auguste’s ears. Eventually they ended up on a quiet corridor and the American boy opened a door into a dormitory.

“There are three beds per dorm room, but it looks like only one’s been taken,” he pointed out, passing Auguste’s luggage to him as he let him enter the room. Unsure what to do with Auguste’s silence, Patrick clasped his hands together and backed away. “I’ll let you get settled, then. Classes have just ended, so if you make your way back to the James Steward Dining Hall you’ll find something to eat. Do you remember where to go?”

Auguste nodded and smiled, before looking around the room. It didn’t seem to get much sunlight, but the dimness made it cosy. It must have been prepared specifically for the international champions, because there was a welcome sign hung up the wall between the various Ilvermorny flags. When he turned back to thank the prefect for the tour, he found that the boy had already gone - probably keen to escape his company.

Being finally alone, a wave of emotion suddenly rose up in him and threatened to pull him under. His exhaustion only heightened his sense of dread, and as he gazed longingly at one of the empty beds he felt an urge to curl up under the duvet and let himself cry, in hopes that he would finally sleep and then wake up in Beauxbatons to find that it was all just a horrible nightmare.

The reality, of course, was that going to sleep would make the next day seem to come around faster, and Auguste was not at all ready to face the first challenge of the tournament. Instead, he unpacked his suitcase and took a cold shower to wash the long journey off his skin and to help wake him up and further stave off the emotion. He needed to find a familiar face that he could talk to - Naomi or Angelique or Kiara. If the prefect, whose name Auguste had already forgotten, was correct, Auguste figured his best chance at finding them was to go down to the dining hall.

Just as he was about to leave the room, a tap, tap, tap on the window made him jump - and then smile broadly. He bounded over and pulled up the sash window, and a crow hopped in and landed on his forearm.

“Coucou, mon ami,” he cooed, stroking Garan’s feathered head. “I knew you would find me. Listen, I’m sorry about the cage…I didn’t know how else to take you on a plane.” As if he had forgotten about the traitorous caging until Auguste’s mention, Garan fixed a beady eye on him and then pecked him hard. “Ow! Garan!” A small hole appeared on his arm and began to bleed. “Look, I released you as soon as we landed! It was either that or I leave you behind, and I know you would never forgive me if I abandoned you.”

His reasoning wasn’t enough it seemed, as Garan took off and perched upon a bookshelf, facing away from him. Auguste heaved a sigh, rubbing at the fresh blood on his arm. “Fine. Sulk all you want - I’m going downstairs to eat.”

Well, at least if he couldn’t find his fellow Beauxbatons, he had a friend in Garan - even if they weren’t on the best terms. Auguste’s tired brain hadn’t absorbed much of the tour Patrick had given him, but there came a point where he just had to follow his nose and the scent of roast meats, fondue, freshly baked breads and decadent desserts eventually led him to the bustling dining hall. After a long journey of relentless anxiety and no sleep, Auguste’s stomach felt like it had shrunk to the size of one of Garan’s beady eyes, and he couldn’t tell if he was starving or on the edge of nausea. So, he perched on a bench on the end of one of the tables, pulled a plain slice of sourdough bread onto a plate and began to nibble at its crust, all the while scanning the room for signs of a familiar face.

Interactions

OPEN FOR INTERACTION​

 

[Wolfiee]

Malaika Odion

Uagadou Champion

location here

mood here

outfit here

interactions

Sanctuaryforall1

Somewhere something was making a weird little chuffing sound like a bird in distress or an annoyed bird? She couldn’t quite tell what it was just that something was making a noise close enough for her to hear it. Though it helped being an animagus plenty of your animal form came through while even in your usual human form. Her pale blue gaze swept the corridor looking for the source of the sound where the hell was it? Then her eyes widened as she saw the ugliest looking bird only to realize it was a Phoenix that was way overdue to go through its cycle of death and rebirth. What was it doing it looked like it was searching for someone then suddenly it burst into flame as if the annoyance it was feeling fueled the change. Malaika stood there in shock watching the bird drift down into nothing but ashes though it wasn’t but a few moments later before a tiny head began moving in the ashes. She hurried over one to make sure the beast was really okay and secondly not wanting anyone to step on the poor beast by mistake. That’s when she heard the sound of footsteps and a sharp but familiar voice of one of the professors. “Is this your phoenix?”she asked the professor after hearing the French woman speak a name in French and the phoenix seemed to respond.


It was rather obvious it was the professors and so she carefully lifted the creature up, passing it to her with care. She was just glad the professor seemed to be in a forgiving mood and soon as she was dismissed she took off. The professor was someone she knew not to mess with and now she was gonna be putting some distance between them while she could. However now she was left with the dilemma of figuring out what to do now. She didn’t quite feel like returning to her room yet she didn’t want to just be bumbling around like an idiot. Her gaze searched when she came upon the blonde, the one she had seen before taking a few different color schemes. The more she looked at the blonde the more things clicked into place and suddenly she found her footsteps hurrying over to her.”Gavy!”she said excitedly. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed before. It was probably the excitement and having not seen the blonde closer until now. “It’s me Mala!”she said using her nickname from their letters. This had to be Gavy her friend it made sense and she looked like the photo she had received recently. Just like how she had sent her own to Gavy. Once the blonde recognized her in return it was squeals of delight before mischief filled both of their eyes. “Oh girl, it's time to explore.”she said grinning. “I heard there’s caves or something like that around here. Do you wanna join me in finding them?!”

coded by natasha.

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Sigurd Berg​

Halls of Ilvermorny​

"It's as if her speed is 17 and I'm moving at 13."​

---

Sigurd internally breathed a sigh of relief when his classmate interrupted him. The interaction was noted, he was rambling and needed to improve his prose. Kiara. That was her name. The information was taken in and memorized. Despite his verbal folly, Kiara took it in stride flashing a smile that put him at ease. Too much, perhaps. Sigurd felt something twitching on his face. It felt like an array of feathers were tickling his head from all sides. Whatever the feeling was, the smile Sigurd responded with in kind swelled like a balloon receiving air. Any attempt to suppress his overeager display of emotion was met with failure. Kiara's hand reached out to meet with his in a gesture of mutual understanding. Finally, the morning's collision was over and done with. It was only when Sigurd momentarily turned away from her that he regained control of his facial muscles.

"Thank you, Kiara," He spoke up, after what felt like an eternity raising and lowering his hand in tune with hers. Said hand slithered away from hers and returned to his side. A thought popped into his mind, one that was so unlike him, it felt like it had been subconsciously planted into his mind by another being entirely. Her hand was soft. Perhaps it was because of his more calloused hands that the comparison sprung into his mind. But there was no time to investigate the tidbit any longer, as Kiara started speaking once again. Another weight faded from his chest as she informed him that they weren't enemies, which was replaced with confusion. They were to be friends? Like a faucet that had commanded with a through twist to shut off, Sigurd's poker face returned. Friends, from a single encounter? One that he was at fault for? His mind replayed the morning's events, searching for an exact moment that could have contributed to Kiara's charged statement.

Once more, the girl prevented his mind wrapping around itself and becoming useless by speaking once more, offering him words that required an audible response. But before he could give an explanation as to why he was absent from yesterday's festivities, she turned and began walking away. Sigurd stood incredulously, once more musing internally. He wasn't in control of the situation at hand, that was for certain. And going off the past few interactions, he wasn't even in control of his own body. His brain told his body to stop and think things through for a moment, but the command was lost in translation. Because like a train cart at the mercy of the railroad beneath it, Sigurd followed after Kiara in exiting their classroom and entering the sea of students. She was working on a completely different speed than him, and he was just along for the ride. The conversation felt like Father's morning jog through the forest, one Sigurd always accompanied with while off from school. When the tradition began, Sigurd's young mind assumed that the goal was to overtake father in the race. And he would try, only to be left exhausted shortly after giving it his all in a mad burst of speed. He would then spend the rest of the run lagging behind. Now that he was older, hanging in the back did not suit him. It couldn't.

Sigurd maneuvered around his peers as if in a minefield, careful not to bump into anyone while maintaining his speed. The boy was so headstrong in his attempt to avoid trailing after Kiara that he had to slow down when he realized that he had rushed right past her. After a cough, he matched pace with her now slower walking speed. A nugget of father's advice reverbed within his head. Be the metronome and set the tone, rather than the musician who merely reacts to the beat.

"You would be correct in your assumption, I indeed hail from the Durmstrang Institute." Sigurd confirmed to Kiara. "My name is Sigurd Berg, and I am representing my school as its champion." Kiara raised an eyebrow in what Sigurd clearly knew was confusion. It seemed as though news about Clara Winter had not been announced yet. "Clara Winter was involved in circumstances that could not be ignored by our Headmaster or those who are running the tournament," He added informatively. "She was removed from the roster this morning, her brother Cosmo leaving as well. I was summoned to take her place."

Sigurd stopped talking to let his announcement sink in. He wondered if Kiara had any connection to the previous champion or her brother. The two of them were gifted wizards and a good choice of candidates to attend the tournament. Especially Clara, the Winter sibling besting him time and time again whenever they matched up at Durmstrang's Dueling Club. It was a shame her lack of discipline resulted in her removal, but it was also the reason Sigurd was able to attend the tournament. And more importantly, the reason he had the chance to restore honor to the Berg name. Up ahead, the mess hall was in full display. Students were forming lines to pick whatever food choices they wanted. The smell of fried fish enticed Sigurd, but he thrust the idea of food into the back of his mind. There was business to conduct. "I saw you at the opening ceremony when Professor Einar displayed it with his book. Are you representing your school as its champion?"

Sigurd placed his hand in his pocket and recoiled his hand as he felt his finger touch something sharp. Slowly, he reached back in and pulled out a fishook. It was the ordinary object that his Headmaster had enchanted. But there was no use for it now, the magic having been sapped to deliver Sigurd to Ilvermorny's doorstep. Noticing a garbage bin up ahead, Sigurd made an underhand toss and watched as the fishook bounced off the rim and landed near a boy at the end of one of the closer tables as he consumed a slice of bread. Sigurd sighed at his inaccuracy and ran off past Kiara towards the student.

"Very sorry about that," He quickly apologized, bending down to collect his fallen item and walking over to toss it in the proper bin. "I thought I could make it in. I was mistaken."

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Darweshi Nyache​

Halls of Ilvermorny​

"I do not like me when I am hangry."​

---

Darweshi could not make heads or tails of the situation at hand. Here he was, happy that his student was doing okay when another situation popped right in to take his previous concern's place. The healer in him declared that this girl, who was barely standing before him, looked like she belonged in bed, getting some rest. But the father in him confided in him that she needed something else. The Potions professor took a few more cautious steps, a hand reaching out in the case that her stance faltered and she stumbled. Once he was close enough to her, the peppering of questions began.

"What is your name? What happened to you? Where is your room? How many fingers am I holding up?" Darweshi belted out one after the other. Despite his previous judgement that the girl was one foul wind away from falling down, he went heavy on the questions like she was a fortified building. And to his relief, the student held through. When he eventually stopped talking, she answered his inquiries. Well, all except what happened to her, but Darweshi saw no wounds or traces of blood, so he assumed that she had checked out from the infirmary early. And the more the girl spoke and Darweshi looked at her, the closer he got to recognizing her. She was one of the patients he had laid eyes on as he left the infirmary himself this morning. "I saw you this morning as I left the infirmary myself! I had dr--" Darweshi paused, forced to come up with a story to cover himself. "...gotten a stomachache. Potion sickness is a terrible thing! But moving on from such depressing things! How do you know my friend Vasu?"

At this point, Darweshi's attention from Naomi was diverted back to Vasu, who was eager for more cookies. After his rampage on the Quansah's gift, there weren't many of his chocolatey treats left. However, a promise was a promise. Besides, one of the best things about food was sharing it. But before he could say anything, a public service announcement gave the details regarding a mandatory meeting. And with Darweshi's luck, it was for the international professors. The Kenyan had never been a fan of meetings and never would. In recent months, the meetings he had attended were primarily about him, stuffy suits talking about his supposed wrongdoings. The rest were boring faculty meetings for Uagadou's diverse cast of professors. No spark of life, just words aimed at a room full of people. In any case, Darweshi was not looking forward to this meeting. A mental cloud formed over his head, black and full of lightning and rain. He put a hand to his stomach and frowned. He needed some food, or this mood would last through the night. "Come, Vasu! Let us go get some cookies!"
Perhaps Vasu's high spirits at the sight of cookies would help him last until dinner. Turning to Naomi, Darweshi beckoned with his hand. "Join us, my dear! I have the most delicious cookies I brought from Uganda! You must try them!" Perhaps travelling with a student without shoes would elicit stares, but the last thing Darweshi wanted to do was leave Naomi by herself.

Together, the trio set out for Darweshi's room. The man himself took point, but it was clear that he had no idea where he was going. First, he tried retracing his steps to return to his room. And when that failed, he resorted to searching for a guide on the wall. A brief glance from behind at Vasu was just the catalyst he needed to focus his efforts on finding his room. He must really have enjoyed that cookie! Eventually, he recognized a hall and relaxed, knowing he had found his way back. As the key was slipped into the lock and turned, Darweshi addressed his companions.

"I should have enough cookies for the two of you! The tin is on the table, help yourselves!" He said, opening the door. "I'll join you momentarily! I have something to prepare for friends back home. And if everything goes well, you two can have even more cookies when they..."

Turning back to face the open doorway, Darweshi heart nearly skipped a beat. Standing in the center of his room, with his back facing the professor, was a man. He had a black head of hair, the two arms held behind his back revealing dark skin. The man was wearing a grey trench coat with black boots. Everything else about him was concealed from view, until he decided to turn around.

"Darweshi Karama Nyache," He said slowly, his body turning around to face the trio as quickly as his speech. "I've been eagerly expecting y--"

Now it was the intruder's turn to be speechless, as he laid eyes on Darweshi entering his room with two young students in tow. One of them was not wearing much clothing and the other looked like he really did not want to be there. "Darweshi..." He repeated, running a hand through his beard. "...Why are you bringing two children into your room? With promises of cookies?"

A mortified look spread across Darweshi's face. After a few seconds of stammering, he pointed a finger at the man. "What am I doing?! What are you doing in my room?!" After his question was angrily unleashed, the room fell into a rather awkward silence. Darweshi first glared at the man before him, the implications he presented disgusting him. He then awkwardly turned to the students standing behind him, who were most likely coming up with theories as to why this man with access to Darweshi's room was eagerly expecting him, as if he was a lover back from a long day's work. Darweshi sucked his teeth before turning all the way to face Vasu and Naomi. He struggled to find his words.

"We...will meet again during the Tournament's stay in Ilvermorny," He began calmly, all the joy and emotion drained from his voice. "But for now, you two need to go. Please." After the students stepped back and out of the room, Darweshi closed the door behind them. And once more, with an agitated fire that was all but unnatural on his face, he slowly reared his head at the object of his disdain. The man himself stared back casually, as if standing around in people's rooms was his job. Darweshi would know, because that's basically what his job was. One word, covered with barbs and filled with hatred, emerged from his mouth as he glared at the intruder.

"Vergil."

 

[WanderLust.]

LYSSA MONTISSERO
CASTELOBRUXO SECONDARY

Mortified

Ilvermorny - Dining Hall

Auguste Pyroclast

Click Me!

One of the perks of Lyssa’s chronic timidity was her ability to remain under the radar of the masses. Care of Magical Creatures was normally one of her favorite classes, after herbology and potions, but the French professor had made a point of openly berating those who performed subpar in her class, leaving Lyssa’s heart pacing in time with the wings of a hummingbird as she desperately attempted to avoid provoking her ire.

Thankfully, she had managed to avoid any confrontation, keeping her nose buried in her notebook as she took dutiful notes on the differences between the species of dragons native to each of the countries Professor Chimere had touched on. It helped that other students in the class seemed intent on testing the professor’s admittedly short temper, one even going so far as to cast periculum in the middle of the lecture.

The class had been eventful, to say the least, which was good. It kept wandering eyes focused on places other than Lyssa herself, which she was grateful for. When class finally concluded, she gathered her books from the desk in front of her and held them tight to her chest, not bothering to put them in her bag as she knew she would likely be removing them as soon as she reached the dining hall to review her notes during lunch.

Lyssa kept her head down as she walked, the way she always did. Even back at Castelobruxo, she had never been a particularly outgoing person. But Ilvermorny was foreign and unfamiliar, she was surrounded by strangers and what little friends she had were back in Brazil. Lyssa had precisely two friends, Marcus Sanchez and Ellia Desantos, both of whom she had met in gaming club back at Castelobruxo.

Professor Arif had convinced Lyssa to attend one of the club’s meetings in her second year at Castelobruxo… after she had failed miserably at making any friends during her first year. Much to her own surprise, Lyssa had found that she had exceptional hand eye coordination that made her quite lethal at Call of Duty, but she far preferred the more laid back games like Animal Crossing or Super Mario Brothers.

Professor Arif had helped Lyssa come out of her shell, even if only by a few inches. Despite his highly contested reputation amongst the international wizarding world, Lyssa had always found him to be quite empathetic. She liked Professor Arif, more so than any of her other professors anyways. Half of the staff at Castelobruxo held open disdain for Lyssa after acquainting themselves with her clueless, well-meaning, muggle father. Her blood status made her inherently less than at Castelobruxo. Muggleborn, Mudblood, Nomag - she had heard almost all of the terms by now, some worse than others, but none particularly courteous.

So naturally, when she felt the sharp pressure of somebody else’s shoulder colliding with her own on the steps up to the castle’s main entrance, she flinched away from it, ready for a vulgar term to be thrown at her but surprised to find that whomever had bumped into her hadn’t even turned to acknowledge the incident. Hmm, it must’ve truly been just an accident. Perhaps the students at Ilvermorny weren’t as concerned with blood status as those back at Castelobruxo. Lyssa was probably overthinking this entire thing. She wanted to believe that people were inherently nice, that the world was not some scary place to be feared, but rather an adventure to be explored. It was so much easier to believe something when you wanted so badly for it to be true.

Making her way into the grand dining hall, which was lined with polished wood tables and smelled strongly of roasted meats and fresh bread, Lyssa was filled with a renewed sense of hope. The Octowizard Tournament was going to be a new start for her. She was going to push herself to make friends, to excel in her studies and prove to the world that muggle born witches were just as capable as their pureblood counterparts. Professor Arif would be so proud of her when he heard how she had conquered her first day of classes-

And then the world slipped out from underneath her.

Lyssa’s momentum came to a screeching halt as an Ilvermorny student to her left jutted his foot out directly into Lyssa’s path. Her own foot caught on the boys ankle, catching underneath herself and sending her careening towards the stone floor, landing squarely on her elbows and forearms with an unceremonious thud and a strangled yelp. The books she had been carrying scattered across the floor, pages scribbled with handwritten notes coming loose and fluttering in the air around her like confetti. Her ears were ringing, but she couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or just the sheer pain that was pulsing through her limbs from the impact.

A symphony of snickers and giggles showered around her. A male voice, fraught with the cracks and pitch variances of an adolescent undeniably struggling with puberty, shouted over his shoulder. “Go back to where you came from, freak.”

Embarrassment. Her ears were definitely ringing from embarrassment. Lyssa had collided with one of the wooden tables when she fell, jostling it so much so that one of the pitchers of water on it had fallen over, its contents spilling over the top of the table and dripping into a puddle next to Lyssa, who was struggling to get to her feet, but only managed to get to her knees as she desperately reached out to gather some of the pages that had come loose from her notebook.

Her elbows shrieked out in protest, and Lyssa inspected her forearms for the source of the burning pain only to find her sleeves streaked with crimson. She must’ve skinned both of her elbows when she fell, effectively destroying the cream sweater she had been wearing. One of the pages from her notebook had fallen into the puddle of water that had spilled from the table, the ink on the page bleeding out until it was no longer interpretable. As she picked up the sopping wet page, she noticed that the pants of the person sitting at the table were also thoroughly dampened. Lyssa’s cheeks burned an even brighter shade of red (if that were even possible) as she realized she had unintentionally dragged somebody else down to the pits of hell with her.

“I’m so sorry.” She squeaked, wobbling unsteadily to her feet and looking around for some napkins. “I-” she paused, her eyes landing on the poor soul with the wet pants. He had curly golden brown hair and eyes the color of storm clouds, a chiseled jawline and an unreadable look on his face that left her fumbling for words. “I’m so sorry.” She repeated, feeling like she was making an even bigger fool of herself by failing to find any suitable words to convey her regrets.