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Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

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  • lisandro valencia
    castelobruxo champion

    L
    is’s stomach sank as he realized that he’d been caught by this professor – he’d tried to be so careful, why hadn’t he looked at where he was going? Hesitantly, he started walking – though it was impossible to know where his professor was at, for all he knew Cha-Cha was clear across the castle. He tried to come up with something – anything, honestly, that could get him out of this scot free, but he wasn’t confident in any of his spellcasting to get out of this. He definitely didn’t like her wand being out – instantly assuming his guilt and making him feel like a criminal. He wasn’t a criminal, was he?

    Keeping an eye on her out of the corner of his eye, he took a deep breath and, as he turned a corner he casted the spells he’d been casting all night – the disillusionment charm and muffliato. He briskly walked down the hall and hid behind a statue until he could tell that the coast was clear (his spells were certainly not perfect, after all). He knew that the professor wasn’t stupid – he’d see her again, probably soon, and this interaction would likely come back to bite him, especially with the biting words she'd had about liars.

    But for now, Lis, who had had a long night following orders he didn’t quite understand and then standing behind a statue for thirty minutes rubbed his exhausted eyes and hoped he could find his dorm soon. He didn’t want to bother anyone – certainly not at this late hour – but when he found a House Elf roaming the halls he nervously asked her to kindly show him where his room was. When he arrived, he didn’t even pay attention to the names written on the door, and the House Elf told him that the door would unlock at his behest (thank god, or he would have nervously stood outside of it, wondering if he’d forgotten some important key that Cha-Cha had given him earlier in the evening).

    Upon entering, one of his roommates was there, busying himself with unpacking. It honestly startled Lisandro, expecting to have to creep in to make his bed and change his clothes (oh, new clothes sounded like a faraway dream), but what startled him the most was a giant king cobra atop the loft bed, staring down at him with his beady eyes. Lisandro shivered and looked to see if their other roommate was there (and what surprises he might have in store), but upon only seeing this Indian boy there he nodded at him.

    β€œHello, I’m Lisandro,” he said blankly, all of his social battery used up for the day. He didn’t want to give his roommate a bad impression, but he was thoroughly spent and didn’t even know if he could muster up changing clothes. He kept his eyes on the snake briefly but looked away, not wanting his roommate to think that he was judging him for his choice of pet. Of course, snakes were not his favorite, but he assumed this snake would at least not bite him in the night…

    He selected the top bunk on the bunk bed just in case, wanting to put as many obstacles between him and the scaly creature. Plus, Lupe, his cat, preferred to perch on the highest spots in the room, so he might as well be sleeping on one of them. He didn’t want to disturb a roommate (if they had one?) with his cat sleeping on them.

    First things first, was to change clothes. Lis dug in his suitcase and pulled out the first pajamas he could find, and his first day’s outfit that he’d already picked out when he’d packed. He hung it on the back of his desk chair, hoping the wrinkles from traveling would fall out overnight. After putting on some soft plush pajama pants and a t-shirt, he got to making his bed, haphazardly tucking his sheets in and throwing the comforter on top. Typically, Lis would take more care in his space – and would have unpacked before the first day – but he was too tired and especially anxious to care.

    All he managed to unpack was Lupe, feeding her and giving her some water before climbing into bed and turning his back on his night owl roommate, and passing out.

    β€”

    Though Lis had fallen asleep quickly, his sleep was restless. Flames licked at him in his dreams, Cha-Cha’s disappointed face, and the professor that he’d just barely juked who’d seemed extremely strict – oh god, what if he had her class? He was in his dreams – and he was also expelled and put in prison for the fire, blamed for everything that he and Cha-Cha had done that evening.

    Upon hearing Vasu’s alarm he almost groaned and pulled his covers up – he would just take a few more minutes to sleep, it would be fine. He drifted asleep again and actually felt like he was sleeping this time, the nightmares plaguing him last night had melted away…

    Lis shot up in his bed and looked at the clock on Vasu’s desk and felt tears spring to his eyes. It was ten minutes before class was to start and he was still snuggled under his sheets. For only a brief moment did he consider skipping but he didn’t want his first day to start like this. He was usually very organized, waking up at least an hour before class and giving himself plenty of leisure time before his class started so he wouldn’t be stressed.

    He did not get this luxury today. He sprung out of bed, thankful he’d laid his clothes out the night before and quickly tossed them on before checking himself in a mirror on the wall, smoothing a couple of wrinkles out of his multicolored striped shirt before running out of the door, grabbing his already-packed shoulder bag for class and his wand.

    He didn’t even know where the classrooms were, and he already felt so late. He couldn’t believe this – why had he trusted himself to only sleep for a few more minutes? The panic welled up in his chest, regretting everything about his life before stopping an unassuming Ilvermorny student in the hallway and begging them for help.

    They escorted him to class and patted him on the shoulder and, almost as if they could sense his ever growing panic, said. β€œYou’ve got this dude, it’ll be alright.”

    Lis shrugged their hand off and said, β€œThanks,” disbelievingly before entering the classroom.

    As he did, he glanced around nervously before taking a seat in the back, without asking his neighbor if it was okay or even looking at them, not wanting to have to make eye contact or make small talk. He wouldn’t normally do this, but he chose the first seat he laid his eyes on and his anxiety planted him there. It didn’t look like the professor – Einar, who he was somewhat familiar with due to his father’s obsession with aurors – had gotten very far if he’d even started. Lis made himself busy with getting things out of his messenger bag – a pencil and his notebook, his textbook. He lined all of this on the table in front of him and nervously strained to listen to what was going on around him.




    location:
    the History of Magic classroom




    interaction: OPEN




    feeling:
    stressed, disappointed in himself

 

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Darweshi Nyache​

Ilvermorny Dining Hall​

"Note: Never cast spells when you're hungry..."​

As he followed his nose through the halls of Ilvermorny, Darweshi couldn't help but compare the North American wizarding school to his own across the sea. The grey, granite walls evoked memories of Uagadou's, which also had rocky walls. The difference was that the African school had been constructed by way of carving into the side of a mountain. The way the students dressed and the atmosphere were also as liberal as Uagadou, with its boiling pot of innumerable African tribes and sub-cultures. However, Darweshi couldn't help but feel another emotion stir within himself upon recalling his school of origin. As much as this tournament was an opportunity to experience ways of life outside of his own, it also served as a much needed vacation away from a steadily constricting Uagadou. Prying eyes in high places wanted to give him grief, but he had no idea why. Well, he knew why, it's just didn't make sense that out of all the criminals and violators of rules to pursue, they would set their eyes on him. The Potions professor came from a long line of Maasai healers, so it was only natural that he take after his father and create medicine. And if the quality of his medicine was mystical in nature, that just alluded to the skill of its creator. And if this mystical medicine was distributed to those in need who weren't typically accustomed to medicine of that quality, then that was a blessing bestowed upon them. If only the Ugandan Ministry of Magic saw it that way. In their black and white, right and wrong sight, a violation of Wizarding Law was a violation of Wizarding Law, no matter how altruistic the intentions.

Warnings about Darweshi's use of his magical elixirs had been relayed, but there were only so many warnings that could be given before their use was shown to be ineffective. He would nod and politely listen, taking the reprimanding as a sign to be more careful next time he would set out. Now, he was being told he would have to submit to 'special inquiries' for a hearing with the Ministry. When? Certainly not for a while, as he had been selected by Uagadou's Headmaster to accompany two of the school's finest students to the upcoming Octowizard Tournament. But whenever the tournament ended and he returned to campus, he would have to stand before a council and answer questions such as 'why would he continuously commit such transgressions'? Perhaps they would sprinkle in some allusions to his muggle-born status with a 'where does your allegiance truly lie'? But right now, Darweshi's allegiance was to his rumbling belly, which had picked up on the stronger scent of food.

The Kenyan had arrived at his final destination. For the next hour at least. The Ilvermorny dining hall was just as he envisioned it, delicious breakfast morsels of all shapes, sizes and colors decorated the tables. And Darweshi was about to enjoy every single one of them. Word was it that the Americans knew how to throw down, and this display showed that those words weren't just myths. Word also had it that a belly like his would be commonplace among the country's citizens, but this student body looked regular sized for the most part. As he stepped onto the scene, Darweshi began formulating a game plan for his breakfast tray. Bacon and ham would make up the majority of his tray, with some eggs on the side. The pastries looked scrumdiddlyumptious, but the biggest mistake you could make in a buffet setting was to fill up on bread. As if his beloved wife Anima was behind him while he looked in the mirror, directing attention to his big belly, Darweshi reluctantly reduced the bacon portion of his tray and replaced it with a portion of whatever fruit was available. Very good, my Belly. Very, very good. You'll be rid of this thing yet, He could hear her say encouragingly.

But before he could get in line and set his meal plan into motion, a woman standing around took notice of him and began to approach him. The first thing he noticed about her was the impressive display of ink on her body. The piece he took the most interest in was the fox on her forearm, bones floating just above it. When he saw her face, he instantly recognized her eyes and facial features. The same ones stared back at him on the cover of a research book on Potions research he kept back in his home office.

Darweshi beamed with joy. "Azura Ito! It is a pleasure to meet!" He extended his hands out to take one of hers and excitedly shook it. As soon as he greeted her, his eyes widened. Wait, had she asked him a question? Yes! Where are the student schedules? The question silenced Darweshi, as if he had taken a second dose of the Draught of Living Death. Come on, Darweshi Nyache, think! A flashback brought him back to the beginning of his journey through the halls. He faintly remembered someone asking the same question to an attendant at a desk, the inquirer receiving a packet of paper. Aha! What was once a possibly embarrassing moment had now become a chance to do a little showing off.

Darweshi coughed and bowed his head. "Of course, I know! Just allow me to reach out and grab my paper! One moment!" The Potions professor rubbed his hands together in preparation and fluidly weaved his hands into hand signs, not unlike a certain cartoon from the other Potions professor's home country. In his mind, Darweshi envisioned the stack of papers the attendant had given the professor who had asked. When he felt himself ready, he announced the name of the spell he was about to cast. "Accio!"

From beyond where the two professors were standing, a packet of papers from a stack full of them levitated into the air and zoomed away from the desk it was on, to the astonishment of the Ilvermorny employee seated near them. Said packet flew through the air above the flowing traffic of students, in the direction of the dining hall. When Darweshi saw the packet of papers soaring through the air like a paper airplane, he extended his hand out to catch them. To his infinite shock, however, the papers overshot just enough to make impact with Azura's face with the force of four thin papers stapled together. Darweshi's eyes grew as wide as saucers at his blunder, flapping hands reaching out to grasp at the papers covering his idol's face.

"Ms. Ito, I am so so sorry and I apologize profusely! The papers were slippery and I just woke up and it's all so complicated! Please take my apology!" By now, students were putting eyes on the situation, giggling amongst themselves at Darweshi's butter fingers.
 
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Sigurd Berg​

The Halls of Ilvermorny​

"A walk gives me time to think."​
Sigurd marched through the halls of Ilvermorny with a purpose. He was a man on a mission. And his first mission? Getting to the first class of the day. He could see the heads of passing students rotate to glance and stare at him as he walked, his fur coat and crimson Durmstrang uniform doing him no favors in the blending in department. Ilvermorny clearly lacked a centralized attire, with students wearing whatever they pleased. As for why he didn't change clothes in his dorm room? Sigurd reasoned with himself that word would spread of Clara's sudden departure eventually, so the people might as well lay eyes on her replacement. And he might as well make it easier on them figure out who it was. Not to mention, the boy didn't have much of a wardrobe to begin with. With three identical uniforms to rotate between, it looked like he was definitely going to give off the impression of a student full of pride for his school, despite his lack of it. Being chosen after an initial rejection was quite the juxtaposition, but the Durmstrang champion was proficient at thinking on his feet. And if he wanted a chance to win the tournament, he would have to do a lot of thinking. First things first, allies. As soon as class with Professor Einar concluded, he would need to locate and meet with his classmate and now teammate Piper. The fellow Durmstrang representative could then give him a report on what had happened during the tournament's opening night, as well as if there was anything or anyone to look out for. From there, it would be prudent to get eyes on the competition and make an appropriate first impression. But how should he approach that particular barrel of herring?

Social interactions were a delicate thing. Easy to get involved in, but hard to realign if something went wrong. Should he go for a display of strength, showing himself a confident and capable competitor to watch out for? Showing himself bold and brazen had its merits, but it would also put a target on his back. Alternatively, he could go for a laidback approach, refusing to show his speed in an attempt to sink under the radar. But acting easy-going could just as easily backfire as well, his behavior earning him a stamp on his forehead saying 'walk all over me, I won't do a thing about it'. Times like these, Sigurd wished he had someone to talk to, someone older who had been down this path before. The closest person who fit that bill was Father, who had been his guide and mentor since he could cast magic. Sigurd, you have the disposition of a soggy slice of bread. Puff your chest out and let them all know that a Berg is in their presence, he would declare with that dark glint in his eyes that emerged whenever he was impassioned. Sigurd's thoughts then turned to his mother. Relax, Sigurd. You're overworking yourself. People like someone who isn't afraid to be vulnerable, so show them that you are approachable and I'm sure things will work out. Sigurd found himself shaking his head in reality. Putting a soft underside on display for all the wolves to see? Advice befitting Father's counterbalance.

The Durmstrang student pinched his forehead, not any closer to coming up with an answer to his predicament. In any case, he was rapidly approaching the classroom where History of Magic was being held. Just another walk down a corridor, a right turn and Sigurd would have arrived. At this point, he longed to walk into the classroom, open a book and engross himself in a life that wasn't his own, but that wouldn't get rid of the problem. Like it or not, he would have to decide quickly. And to his frustration, he still could only come up with nothing as he reached the end of the corridor and made the turn. The door stood before him, students already inside and taking their seats. Suddenly, a third voice made itself heard. Go with the flow, Sigurd. Listen to your body and trust your instincts in the moment. He almost instantly frowned upon the idea. Go with the flow? Play things by ear? Sigurd nearly scoffed aloud at the sheer ridiculousness of this voice. If you're going to make it in life, you need a plan. If one desired to go on a trip, a map was the first thing they would need. At this point, Sigurd resigned himself to straddling some sort of thin line between the first two choices. Confident when need be, but also taking care not to draw too much attention towards himself. The third, he had no idea what to do with. It was a voice he had never heard from before or cared to identify. Placing a hand on the doorknob, he opened it up and briefly stood in the doorway, taking it all in before eyes were laid upon the newcomer. Here goes nothing.
 
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THEODORE WEST
HOGWARTS CHAMPION
Annoyed
Ilvermorny - The Grand Hall
Aurelia Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1
Click Me
When the morning sun began to peek through the slats of the shuttered window in his dormitory, Theo squinted lazily, releasing a growl like that of a hibernating grizzly bear as he rolled away from the cumbersome brightness. The morning had come too soon, and sleep had evaded him for far too long to provide any real respite from the day prior. He could vaguely make out the gentle pattering of mouselike footsteps creeping quietly around the room, no doubt the boy from Durmstrang who Theo had yet to acquaint himself with. It certainly wasn’t Sebastian, who much like Theo himself, had never been an early riser. As the footsteps continued, Theo very seriously considered launching his pillow towards the source of the incessant scuttling with a hissed β€˜shut up’ but instead, he opted to pull his pillow over his head, wagering he could do with a few more minutes of rest before the day began.

By the time Theo had returned to the dorm last night, both his roommates had been in bed… whether they had been sleeping or not, Theo hadn’t cared to check. But for one reason or another, they had left him the single bed and chosen the vertically stacked bunk beds for themselves. Theo liked to think it was because, deep down, they knew he would’ve made their lives a living hell if one of them had dared to stake a claim on the secluded single… but perhaps it was just preference. He didn’t care much either way.

Realizing that, eventually, he would have to leave the comfort of his bed and seize the day, he decided to get the suffering over with, blinking his eyes a few more times as he sat upright and swung his long legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor tepid against the soles of his feet. He found himself greeted by a set of amber eyes peering back at him expectantly, a black and white feline sat patiently on the floor between two of the beds, its tail twitching back and forth rhythmically. β€œWhat?” Theo inquired flatly, for some reason half expecting the cat to scold him for his untimely arrival last night.

The cat let out a soft mew as Theo rose to his feet, pausing a moment before reluctantly reaching down to give it a few scratches behind the ear. He may not have been the warmest person in the world… but he wasn’t heartless. He liked cats, their trust needed to be earned, they weren’t blindly loyal idiots like most dogs were. With a final yawn he turned his attention to his suitcase, which had yet to be unpacked or even opened. Unhooking the golden clasps that kept it shut, he withdrew a pair of black slacks and a gray sweater for the day. Back home, he would’ve dawned his green Slytherin tie as dress code required, but today he opted for a more casual look. Running his fingers through his tousled brown locks a few times, he decided that his hair looked good enough as it was. He didn’t have the patience for any more preening anyways, his stomach was already grumbling in anticipation of breakfast.

Slipping out of his dorm wordlessly, he began meandering the halls of Ilvermorny searching for food. The path to the grand hall was relatively direct, but he would’ve been able to find it even if he hadn’t known the way. The mouthwatering aroma of cinnamon and roasting meat permeated the halls as he grew closer to the source. When he arrived in the crowded mess hall he couldn't help but search the sea of faces for Chitrita... she had disappeared so suddenly last night he had found himself wondering if she had been injured... or perhaps she had decided that she wanted nothing to do with the mischief Theo and Vasu seemed so intent on involving themselves with. The lack of explanation had left his mind spiralling, but for some reason he couldn't forget the look of utter terror that had painted her features. If he wans't so hungry, the memory might've tied his stomach in knots. However, the mess hall was brimming with breakfast options each more enticing than the last, french toast and sizzling bacon, pancakes, fresh fruit … it almost rivaled the breakfast spreads back at Hogwarts, save the delectable cinnamon buns he had become so fond of over the years.

With the basic human urge to consume calories overriding his worrisome thoughts of Chitrita, he began filling his plate with a hefty portion of something called β€˜Canadian bacon’ - which appeared to be exactly the same as regular ham but Theo wasn’t complaining. A few pancakes were added to his tray and subsequently smothered in maple syrup, and a couple spoonfuls of scrambled eggs on the side. Then he spotted the piece de resistance - a brilliantly colored, ruby red apple practically beckoned to him from a picture perfect bowl of brightly colored fruits that he imagined would’ve been the perfect subject for an amateur painter. He reached out his hand to pluck the apple for himself only to be squandered in his attempt when a much smaller, quicker hand darted out and beat him to it.

His brows furrowed in annoyance and he turned to snap at whoever had dared to steal his crown jewel from him. His eyes landed on a girl with skin the color of coffee before the cream had been stirred in. Her ebony hair was pulled back neatly in braids and her dark eyes glimmered like flames as she met his glare with a challenging gaze of her own. Theo’s eyes darkened and there was a slight bulge in his jawline as he gritted his teeth. β€œBy all means… help yourself.” his growling voice dripped with sarcasm as he picked up his tray once more, opting for a slightly more pink apple as a replacement.
coded by natasha.
 
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Malaika Odion
Uagadou Champion
location here
mood here
outfit here
interactions

Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi

The warmth of the sun upon her face was annoying and wonderful all at the same time. She was currently missing the feeling of the blazing heat upon her but experiencing other places was also wonderful. She slowly lifted the comforter off of herself before sliding out of the bed bare feet touching the floor sent a jostle through her system of the shock of it. β€œOof that’ll certainly wake oneself up.”she said to herself with a shake of her head. Her gaze looked around not seeing Aurelia figuring the other was either buried deep in her bed or already out of their room for the morning. She grabbed some clothing that was more styled for this place yet still had the splashes of color from her own home school. It wasn’t long but still longer than she had planned getting ready. The warmth of the shower had been rather hard to leave. So once out she had used some magic to quickly dry herself and style her hair into a perfect plait down her back. The scent of raspberries filtered off of her as she headed towards the scent of fresh food curious about what breakfast would be like here. She had learned some of the foods were very greasy here or a different type of fatty compared to her home foods. So she thought about going for something simple and plain today, wanting her stomach to feel at ease during her first lesson.


As she entered the dining hall she was just in time to see her professor have papers sail right through his hands and hit one of his new colleagues right in the face. She blinked momentarily stunned before delicately moving her finger a spell in her mind Episky, a minor spell to heal minor injuries wanting to make sure Professor Ito had no marks upon her face after her professors blunder while he apologized like crazy. There was no way she could let the poor man suffer alone so she moved swiftly to his side. β€œApologies for interrupting Professor Ito, Professor Nyache.”she said, giving a respectful dip of her head towards Professor Ito. β€œIf I may help my dear professor here. He means would you please accept his apology. In his haste to help he seems to have miscalculated the trajectory of the papers. Also if you don’t mind my saying this I think you’ve made him a tad nervous as you are someone he respects greatly as you both specialize in the same subject. I think in his haste to help.”she glanced at him, her eyes softening knowing he had certainly meant no ill will whatsoever. β€œThat this has caused what could be taken as a misunderstanding of ill will and I can assure you with everything in my being this was not the case.”she said looking back at the other professor. She was trying to soothe the situation while also giving her professor a moment to take a breath and regain himself once more.



coded by natasha.
 


  • Professor Birger Einar
    Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor


    The morning did not start off in the chipper manner Einar would have liked. Not only had he spent the majority of his night worrying for Cha-Cha and his recovery from the nasty bite the young man received but he had been awoken early to be informed that the Winter twins were to be sent home. According to the official reports being filed, it seemed Clara had committed quite the act of arson and vandalism with her brother's aid and the two were no longer welcome to take place in the tournament. Claws gripped Einar’s heart as he watched the carriage pull away with Clara and Cosmo tucked inside. This entire situation did not sit right with him because while the Winter twins could have their troublesome moments, such blatant crimes were not their usual brand or at least they were better about not being caught. Sending them off to deal with the school and likely their parents as well did not sit well on the old mans mind, his grip on his cane tightening at the thought of the senior members of the Winter family. Every interaction he had had with Cosmo and Clara’s mother and father often left him itching to find reasons to keep the children away from their home, part of the reason he had advocated for both to join him for this tournament.

    Glacier blue eyes narrowed and he shook his head ever so slightly before turning and beginning to make his way back through the courtyard of Ilvermorny. The old man had no doubt that the new Durmstrang champion would already have arrived while he had been tasked with seeing the Winter twins off. Sigurd Berg was a young man Einar had taken notice of during the few times their paths had crossed in classes or during events back at Durmstrang. The young man seemed to carry himself with confidence and a calm demeanor though Einar has also witnessed him struggle to connect with others in ways that may help the young man as he grows. As important as diligence and dedication can be the elder History of Magic professor couldn’t help but feel learning to breach his cold exterior and allow others in may be incredibly beneficial to Sigurd in the long run.

    While the other members of the staff at Durmstrang, Headmaster Aprilov included, may have been less than fond of the idea that Sigurd join this tour Einar had made quite the case for the young man. It hadn’t been easy but despite his age and calmer spirit Einar was still a warrior at heart and knew how to win the battles that mattered. In his eyes, Sigurd mattered, and Einar believed with his whole heart that being a part of this grand tournament and all the moments involved with it would help the young man. It was a once in a life time opportunity and even if Durmstrang did not win Einar would feel accomplished just knowing both Sigurd and Piper had taken part in it.

    Einar had certainly not forgotten about the other student left under his care. He had considered that the young man might be good for a bid for champion but in the insanity of the night prior Einar had spotted the young man in the infirmary and what he saw gave him pause. Piper had been tucked into a room with a young woman his aged mind recalled being named Naomi. The blonde male was a silent sentry keeping watch over her and while Einar did not dare to intrude he did observe. Piper took so much onto himself, it was a trait Einar respected and admired in the young man, but it could also eat him alive. At current it hadn’t felt right to add any greater stressors to the young man's plate, not when he was clearly carrying so much already. Keeping him as a secondary had seemed the best course of action and even hours later he did not find himself regretting the decision. Piper would be a good secondary to Sigurd, he could see his small team working well together and had confidence that Durmstrang would recover from this chaotic first night.

    Entering the halls of Ilvermorny among the waves of students the broad-shouldered elder viking of a man cut his way through the crowd. His cane tapped along with his stride as he passed through the stone archways and caught a whiff of breakfast that left his stomach growling. Looking at his pocket watch he knew he did not have the time to stop and eat if he wanted to make it to his class on time. The students would likely already be gathering and who was he to keep them waiting? Cutting across a small courtyard and ascending a carved staircase the old man soon found himself at the doors of his classroom which were already open with several students inside. β€œGood morning!” He called out with his thunderous voice easily heard over the chatter. His brilliant blue gaze was a blaze of delight as he smiled and limped towards the front of the room. β€œWe still have time before class begins but if any of you have anything you would like to bring to my attention do not be afraid to approach.” He offered as he reached his desk. β€œTake some time to get to know your classmates as well, you’ll all be making this journey together after all.” He winked and it was unclear if the words were meant to be about his class or the tournament in general.


    Mentions: Sigurd TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Piper honeycoves honeycoves BUT ALSO OPEN FOR INTERACTION!



    TEMPLATE Β© BOKEH
 
MOOD: neutral

OUTFIT: outfit (click!)

LOCATION: Bedroom / History of Magic Classroom
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INTERACTIONS: N/A

MENTIONS: N/A
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TAGS:
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TL;DR: Got ready for the day, ate breakfast, observing HoM class. Open for interactions.
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BELLAMY
Aadesh had risen early to a silent castle, a luxury he was glad he could afford. After everyone had practically ran off when his cane was stolen, he had spent the night being chatted up by a young Ilvermorny professor. Detained by his chair and lack of mobility device, she had cornered him and spent far too long chattering his ear off in an ill-concealed attempt to flirt with him. She flipped her long blonde hair, and batted the fake lashes that seemed so big she'd fly away if she flapped them any harder. He could only do his best to smile, and respond with witty quips and well-placed winks every now and then. When she was finally beckoned away by a colleague, he seized the opportunity to clumsily locate his sleeping quarters, using the walls for support where he could as he haphazardly limped away. Once in his room, he hastily applied an anti-alohomora charm to his door, planning to keep anyone and everyone on the other side of the door. The wear of the day and the strain of upkeeping his transfigured appearance left him weary and exhausted. He hardly even took a moment to remove his suit jacket before his disguise came crumbling down and he collapsed on his bed.

This morning, he caught sight of his true appearance for what felt like the first time in months. He had spent so long training his ability and working on creating a convincing Bellamy that he almost never appeared as himself. Not to mention, he rarely had time to stop and look in the mirror as Aadesh. He had been walking to undress and shower before the day started and the tournament officially commenced when he caught a flash of his own reflection, prompting him to stop. Even with a worn, thin Bellamy being his typical suit of armor, his suit jacket still hung even looser on his own frame. His pants were a couple inches too short, Aadesh being tall for a young Indian man, and his sleeves didn't reach his wrists. He turned his head side to side, taking in the appearance of his face. His features were practically foreign to him after all this time. His square nose, pouty lips, almond eyes were all features Aadesh Pawar had always had. But he was a different man now. A better man. He ran his fingers through his overgrown, black hair, taking his appearance in one last time before returning to his original task.

Showered and dressed, his day started the same way most had as of late: with a healthy shot of polyjuice potion. This particularly strong batch offered him roughly 16 hours of disguise, any minute stretching passed that required his transfiguration skills to maintain the visage. He'd been perfecting his timing for awhile, and while it was particularly strenuous, he was confident in his own abilities. He had waited patiently for the right time to leave, taking his polyjuice potion shot just moments before exiting. The potion was thick and silky, sporting a dark golden color and a vague sparkly quality. It tasted of weak coffee and stale bread, but was largely tolerable. In a matter of seconds, his clothes fit, his point of view was slightly shorter, and a terrible aching in his knee prompted him to locate his backup cane(it was occurring to him he may need a backup backup cane, but that was an issue for later).

After a sugary breakfast, he wasn't half as free as most of the other professors likely were. Bellamy had never taught a class before, and was given the option by the Ilvermorny headmaster(at the request of the Hogwarts headmaster and the International School Board for Magical Institutions) to observe either Care of Magical Creatures or History of Magic as a precursor to teaching his own Magical Languages course. While Care of Magical Creatures was a more interesting subject to him, he knew that History of Magic was better format-wise and that Magical Languages would likely be similar to History of Magic. He grabbed a coffee to-go and found his way to Einar's classroom. He settled quietly in the back, resting his cane on his toes and settling in comfortably into a rather uncomfortable chair.
he got murder in his eyes
He wore the silence like a mask
now he's making up for
all the violence in his past
code by valen t.
 
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Vasu Saini // β€œthe Snake Charmer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​
Mey and Vasu alighted on the bench next to Ramona as a conspicuous hush fell over the assembled students, like a plague spreading. Bodies spun backwards in their seats, heads craning to see the culprits of the lingering noise. Vasu was just plunking his shoddy messenger bagβ€”the dark leather flaking off in pale patches, occasionally leaving a trail behind him, and one of the zippers irreparably jammedβ€”onto the floor beside their bench when his gaze connected with that of the heavily tattooed professor. She was giving Mey and him the evil eye, and all of his new classmates were watching the silent exchange with bated breath to see if the pair of Koldovstoretz representatives would receive a reprimand before the first class was underway. Vasu felt a furious blush climbing up his neck.
Mercifully, she spared them the embarrassment. Or at least, Vasu thought initially it was a merciful choice. And then, as if deciding that the contents of her bag held a more frightful punishment than anything a mere doll-like woman could dish out on her own, her first words rang in an ominous warning. A silvery tendril of hair slithering in front of her face, she reached down and grasped an ordinary-looking burlap sack. An ear-splitting sound like an air horn being devoured by a woodchipper erupted from the bag. The interior of it suddenly lit up bright orange. Inexplicably, a dark shape that was hundreds of times too large to fit in the burlap sack exploded from it. It was a pool of darkness so vivid that it looked like liquid, as if someone had left a window open in a house and the night had dripped against wallpaper and furniture, dimming the glow of lamps. Another deafening wail rattled Vasu’s bones and made him clamp his hands over his ears. Fear raced through him, melting all thought. The massive creatureβ€”a dragonβ€”lifted off the ground slightly, its wings stirring the air as it levitated, its triangular head rearing high over the students. Being at the topmost row of the amphitheater, its fiery gaze naturally burned into Vasu and Mey.
In Hindu mythology, dragons were never officially denounced as evil, but their moral inclinations tended to lean that way. In most tales, they were savage villains bent on destroying towns and gobbling innocents, ignorant to or uncaring of the widespread apocalypse they caused. Vritra was the most famous of dragons in Indian lore, an asura, or demon, that had emerged from cosmic waters during the birth of the universe. His body stretched infinitely across the sky, his numerous heads bringing havoc to numerous parts of the world at once. Vritra ruthlessly slayed any proud warrior who dared stand up to him, dismembering and incinerating them invariably. The only foe whose might stood a chance of bringing down this enemy to humankind was Indra, king of the gods. Their battle raged for years, and then decades, and then centuries. Finally, using a weapon that he had fashioned out of the thunder and lightning itself called the vajra, Indra struck Vritra dead and restored the droughted and famished lands to their former glory.
Vasu froze under the colossal reptile’s gaze, numb with panic. Its vertical pupils made it hard to tell precisely where it was looking, but its head was still riveted in his and Mey’s direction. He wasn’t sure if the best strategy was to lower his gaze or return its unblinking stare, but he found himself too afraid to tear his eyes away, lest a cage of teeth snap him up while he wasn’t looking. He imagined what he was experiencing right now was akin to the last frantic thoughts to cross a woodland creature’s mind as it spotted an owl’s shadow passing through the moonlight. Vasu detested nature. Anything that defied control couldn’t be trusted. It would always be an unknown variable. In India, earthquakes and floods were responsible for more yearly deaths than Dark wizards ever were. Every once in a while, children would disappear into the forest and never return because a ghostly nishi had lured them in with its whispers, or a gandeberunda, a vicious two-headed bird, would peck the eyes out of its human prey before devouring them. In the cautionary tales that Vasu had grown up on, nature was always a punishing agent, a force of chaos too great to be tamed or predicted, and thus it was feared.
Finally, still eyeing Vasu forebodingly, the colossal beast folded its wings and lowered its sinuous body onto the ground. There was such force of impact that a student who had risen from her seat to retrieve a pencil she’d dropped was thrown to her knees and gave a little shriek when she almost joined it as it tumbled over the lip of the aisle and down to the amphitheater’s next level. Vasu’s mouth felt dry as he watched her fingers scrabble for purchase against the smooth stone, halting her momentum just in time. Why do I have to take this godsforsaken class? was his first coherent thought since the dragon had emerged. Why the hell does Ilvermorny make this nonsense a requirement, rather than something useful? Like Ancient Runes. Or Music. Shit, even Dark Arts has more practical applications than pissing off a dragon and that being the end of everything you know.
Lost in brooding over the injustice of mandatory electives, Vasu allowed himself to space out while the professorβ€”whose name he still did not know because she had introduced the dragons in place of herselfβ€”called on various students. His eyes narrowed when he noticed a familiar figure at the base of the amphitheater, almost completely obscured by the dragon’s girth. Tucked away in a quiet corner was the Wine Man himself, Professor Vinogradov. He was dressed in surprisingly spiffy attire, sipping from his ever-present coffee cup and watching the lesson with thinly disguised befuddlement. Oh, good. So Vasu wasn’t the only one who had felt ambushed and very much endangered by the dragon’s sudden appearance. He remembered how one of his Quidditch mates from Koldovstoretz, Alexei, always advocated taking off the first week of classes because syllabi was all that was covered. As tempted as Vasu had been to escape this drudgery with creatures that were magical accidents, he had roused himself out of bed on the off-chance thatβ€”
A faux-polite clearing of the throat. Vasu jumped at the sound of his name leaving the professor’s lips. He supposed it was only natural that she knew his name after last night’s ceremony, but still. It felt unnatural, not to have been introduced to her and for her to know his name but not the reverse. She was staring at him with her head cocked on an imperious angle, waiting for him to answer a question he hadn’t been paying attention to. Assuming that this was still the prompt for miscellaneous facts about the Hebridean Black, Vasu stammered for only half a second before he dredged something up from his memory.
β€œUm…” He was confronted once again with an ocean of eyes as the entire class swiveled in their seats to regard him. His voice projected startlingly from the top of the amphitheater. β€œIt’s common practice for the Ministry of Magic, MACUSA, and other national legislatures to erase it from Muggles’ memories whenever they encounter one.” The young pixie-faced professor continued pinning him with that knifelike stare, as if this were an unsatisfactory answer and she was giving Vasu a chance to redeem himself. Which was fair, he supposed, since his comment was true of all dragons and not just the Hebridean Black. He strained his memory and grasped at straws. β€œ...They also happen to be the mascot for the Banchory Badgers, which is a Scottish Quidditch team. Indicating that the Hebridean Black is likely native to Scotland,” he finished uncertainly. It took all of his composure not to squeak out a maybe at the end of that conjecture, because Vasu had no idea where the dragon originated from. He was equally unsure whether the professor would deem this answer acceptable. Meanwhile, the Hebridean Black in question was busying itself blowing smoke rings into the air, and the acrid stench made Vasu wrinkle his nose even from the back of the class.
 
Angelique Chimere
Professor
location here
mood here
outfit here
interactions

interactions come here

There was something amusing about seeing all the different reactions to a large dragon bursting forth from a bag. She was unsurprised when many students screamed, jumped, ducked, or hid the best they could. Those who stayed looking calm were those she thought might just one day do well in this field if they so choose. Her eyes narrowed and her French accent would become heavier every time a student gave a disappointing answer, not that she expected them to know everything but they were in their final years of school they should be quicker on the uptake at this point. She had called on one of the champions when he seemed to be zoning out. Her eyes narrowed and head tilted waiting on an answer as he gave such a mediocre answer that she clicked her tongue in disapproval. Her eyes were not leaving him as she gave him one last chance to give a better answer. He seemed to rattle off some information and even then he seemed so unsure of it that she was surprised he hadn’t slid down into his seat just to hide himself away. A hand raised flicking the silver piece of hair out of her face clear disappointment upon it.”Yes the Hebridean Black is native to Scotland. Now can anyone else tell me more or is this the best any of you can do?”she asked, looking around at all the students. She didn’t expect them to know everything but what little they did know made her question how all these other schools taught their students. It wasn’t that uncommon for dragons to cause mayhem, yes they typically were swiftly dealt with but creatures such as these could do whatever they liked most the time so one would think you’d be more prepared for such a thing.


She allowed the students to answer or question things before continuing on with the lesson. The great beast behind her blinked its purple eyes still moving its head to watch the students every now and then as if it was debating on what to do. The youngling on her arm squirmed and spit out fire every so often causing a rumbling sound from its mothers chest. The bat-like wings stretching high into the sky before folding once more as smoke rings continued curling out of her muzzle in apparent boredom. β€œAlright, I'll ask an easy question now. What other dragon breed is typically found in the same area as the Hebridean Black? They are far less aggressive and so they typically have a smaller range needed. Can anyone tell me which dragon breed it is?”she asked waiting on someone to raise their hand and answer. Her gaze flicked towards someone who had quickly raised their hand.”Yes you there.”she said giving the students name as she awaited an answer. β€œThe Welsh Green which is smaller and less aggressive.”the student answered earning a nod of approval from Angelique.”Very good.”she said before turning back towards the large black dragon her purple gaze still upon the students as she suddenly opened her wings fully and with two powerful strokes of her wings that sent many of the students belongs scattering due to the intense winds she soared up into the sky before diving back down earning more screams from the students. The dragon however had disappeared much like how it had first burst out of the bag it had gone back in.”Now with her back in the bag. I will let you all see the baby up close. Anyone who wishes may come down here and few him though I tell you this now. If any of you try anything you’ll find yourselves in detention faster than you can say Hebridean.”she warned them before allowing those who were brave enough or curious enough to move down to where she stood.



coded by natasha.
 


  • Aurelia Quansah
    Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary


    Her adventures in the library the night prior had led to Auri tracking down several other books that caught her eye and she hoped to look into checking out once she had time the next day. She made a mental note of the titles and authors but also knew she would remember exactly where she had found them and be able to retrace her footsteps once she was ready to check the works of literature out. This was one of the admittedly many times she was grateful for her eidetic memory as she knew that come morning she would be able to remember the layout of the stacks she had wandered through the night prior.

    She had been on her way back towards the dormitories when the young Uagadou student rounded the corner and found herself face to face with a professor she remembered seeing earlier who she recalled had been named Professor Chimere. A short yet delightful conversation had been struck up between the two as Auri had seldom ever been shy speaking with professors and Professor Chimere was quite a fascinating woman to speak with. Toward the end of their brief conversation, the subject of schedules came up and Auri mentioned that she would be seeing Professor Chimere first thing as Care of Magical Creatures would be her first class in the morning. The gears in the professors head seemed to start turning as a heartbeat later she inquired if Auri would be able to do her a favor. Explaining that she would need to get to class early to set up and thus not have time to pick up a package being delivered closer to class starting Professor Chimere informed Auri that if she were to pick it up and bring it to class how much of a help it would be. Discussing the details further Auri had made sure to understand where and when to pick up the package as well as how to handle it. Professor Chimere was very open with the information and even acknowledged that the pickup might make her a bit late for class but since Auri was helping her it would be alright. Coming to this agreement the young Uagadou student was delighted to assist the woman who would be her professor.

    Now, the next morning, Auri stood in the Great Hall waiting for the courier from Beauxbatons to appear with the parcel for her to pick up. She had her gaze flicking from the book in front of her up and around the room every few seconds to ensure she didn’t miss anything as she strolled around. Most students had come and gone already and she was well aware of how soon it was until classes would begin. Being late to class wasn’t something Auri ever took part in, her respect for her education and the professor's time being too great as well as the fact that repeated tardiness could smudge her image in her families eyes. Sighing as the clock drew closer to class beginning she closed her book and tucked it into her bag. At some point in her pacing, she had come to stand in front of the massive table lined with food for all the students and staff to enjoy as their first meal. A splash of red caught her eye and reminded her that it had been quite some time since she had really eaten. She had politely picked at her dinner the night before but had been far more interested in taking in all the people as well as her new location and learning as much as she could for strategy sake. Now she felt her stomach claw with hunger and the beautiful crimson skin of the apple before her called to her like a siren song. Reaching forward she grabbed it eagerly, not registering the mirrored hand that had also been intent on selecting the same fruit.

    Glancing up towards the figure on the other side of the long table she was met with fired-up amber eyes glaring into her own which she met in kind. Any apology she might have been considering giving died the moment the young man, Theodore West, decided to get so heated over an apple. She could read the annoyance in the tightness of his jaw, the furrowing of his brow, and the slight flare of his nostrils. When he spoke his words were a low growl that oozed layers of sarcasm that seemed far out of place for a simple misunderstanding over fruits.

    β€œI believe I just did.” She replied and held her head with all the pride of the lioness who raised her. β€œThough it is so very kind of you to give me your blessing, I didn’t realize such a thing was necessary.” She added with her own sarcasm cutting into her words and showing that his foul mood wouldn’t cause her to waver or cower before him. Her dark cocoa gaze remained locked on him for several heartbeats longer until he finally picked up his packed breakfast tray in one hand while selecting a lighter-shaded apple with the other. β€œEnjoy.” She called after him as she took a bite into the apple she held in her hand and turned to go her own way.

    It didn’t take her long to make swift work of the fruit and just as she finished disposing of the core the bells for the start of the first classes rang. She was officially late but felt at ease knowing she would be late with Professor Chimere’s blessing. Not even a minute after the bell rang a scrawny older gentleman with a blue ribbon tied around his hat that was very similar to the Beauxbatons uniform shade appeared at the door of the great hall. In his gnarled hands, he held a package that bore the French school's crest.

    Approaching the elderly wizard Auri formally introduced herself and produced the letter given to her by Professor Chimere that signed off for her to collect the parcel on the professors behalf. Opening the parchment and taking a healthy amount of time to look it over with a beady green gaze the old man soon seemed satisfied with what was written and placed the bag into Auri’s hands. β€œThank you, sir.” She nodded her head and gave him a kind and formal smile before the two parted ways and she began to make her way down the halls with the package in her arms and her bag at her side.

    Weaving her way through the maze of halls that made up the American wizarding academy it didn’t take too long for Auri to find her way outside and headed down the path towards the fields where Care of Magical Creatures was being held. As she drew near it was all too easy to spot the dragon and she couldn’t help but let a small smile of admiration pull at her lips, Professor Chimere clearly wanted to start the year off strong. As she arrived at the edge of the group and carefully placed the parcel down so Professor Chimere could gain easy access to it she heard the question raised by the woman standing between the dragon and the class. Raising her hand she waited for acknowledgement from the French professor before speaking. β€œThe Hebridean Black are often observed to be more aggressive than the Common Welsh Green dragon and other dragons found in the British Isles. However, there has been documentation to indicate that they aren’t completely without mercy as some might choose to believe. They have been noted to spare some witches and wizards who provide it with aid or compassion…though it is not guaranteed.” She had read a book about the dragons of the world and the way magical cultures had formed around them a few months ago and remembered being absolutely enthralled by the subject.



    Mentions: Theo WanderLust. WanderLust. Angelique Wolfiee Wolfiee



    TEMPLATE Β© BOKEH
 


  • Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)
    Beauxbatons - Female - Muggle Born - Secondary


    The air didn’t smell right. That was the first thing Naomi’s mind dragged to the surface as she began to regain consciousness. How had she gone from standing patiently in the courtyard that smelled of dewy grass and burning torches to…laying down tucked into a bed with sheets that smelled freshly cleaned and strongly of antiseptics and healing herbs? Though her eyes had yet to open her delicate brow furrowed in confusion and she shifted ever so slightly, her muscles barking in protest. It felt as though she had just run a marathon and a half without time to warm up or cool down, then been hit by a bludger a few dozen times. None of it made sense. The last thing she could recall was watching Piper’s towering figure race off into the dark outer halls of the Ilvermorny castle. He had been acting odd, or at least she assumed the way he had acted was peculiar but then again she didn’t know him well enough to tell if the young man was always so flighty or not. Now it felt as though she had blinked and suddenly the world around her had completely shifted.

    Hesitantly pale lids began to part ever so slightly and through her thick lashes Naomi began to take in her surroundings. Her nose had not fooled her, blinking a few times the young woman's mahogany gaze took in the telltale signs of a schools hospital wing. She hadn’t spent much time in one as a patient before but during quidditch season last year, her friend Godfrey had taken a bludger to the head and ended up with a nasty concussion that put him on bed rest in the Beauxbatons hospital wing for a few days. During that time she spent almost all of her free periods by his side and even did her homework next to his bed so the overly social young man wouldn’t suffer from a dreadful bout of FOMO during his recovery. It was odd to now be the one waking to find herself in a cocoon of blankets with no memory of how she had come to be there.

    Looking around quietly she spotted a chair next to her bed. Someone had been sitting with her while she was unconscious. Reaching a pale hand up to run through her soft rose gold and blonde locks, feeling along her scalp for any signs of abuse. How long had she been out? Who had been sitting with her? Was it one of her schoolmates? Professor Chimere? Piper? She had no idea but whoever it was had either left or been forced out given the time. Glancing out the window the dark velvet blue sky was beginning to pale with the first signs of dawn. Narrowing her gaze Naomi gathered that she had at least been out a good few hours provided that the new day was the first day of classes and not the dawn of a morning days or weeks from when she had been in the courtyard. Instantly her gut twisted with guilt and anxiety. What if she had been unconscious for so long that she had been unable to help Raph and Kiara with the first challenge? The thought felt like a knife twisting in her already sore chest. She hated the idea that she would let them down so early on and for reasons she couldn’t even remember.

    After sitting in silence for quite some time, her dark earthy eyes taking in the sun as it reached towards the sky to bring in a new day, the curtain beside her bed finally shifted. A petite nursing witch poked her head in and looked surprised to make eye contact with the young woman sitting up in the bed, pillows propped behind her to keep her comfortable and upright. β€œMy stars. Didn’t think you’d be up and at’em so soon.” The witch breathed, her southern accent thickly layered into her words as she approached Naomi and began examining her. β€œYa been out cold for a few hours Peach, wasn’t sure when you were gonna wake up. Felt bad having to send your little friend out of here but the little darlin’ looked like he needed some rest too.” The older woman sighed with a small smile as she took Naomi’s wrist between her fingers and checked her pulse.

    So she had only been out a few hours. Good. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared it might be. Hearing the nurse mention having to send someone away had Naomi blinking innocently up at her. β€œBoy?” She asked softly, her voice as gentle as ever.

    β€œWhy sure, the youngster who brought you in here.” The nurse nodded and moved on to her next exam. β€œHe was all worked up and posted himself next to you all night. You have a good friend in him hon, I’m sure he’ll be over the moon to see you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” The petite woman chuckled and continued her work in silence as Naomi played the perfect patient. Her mind worked through what the nurse had told her and it didn’t take a genius to recognize that the older woman had to be talking about Piper. He was the one she had last been with so of course he must have been the one to come back and find her and then bring her here. But why had he stayed? Was he just that kind of person? Did he care that much? Did he know what had happened to her? She couldn’t be certain but along with all the swirling confusion of her mind, she couldn’t help but feel her heart flutter with gratitude. Piper had stayed by her side and by the sounds of it he had been worried. While in the back of her mind, she knew this might have been for ulterior motives Naomi chose to believe it was because of the young man's good nature. She didn’t know him well yet but she did believe he had a good heart, if that made her naive then so be it.

    Once the sun was fully showing on the horizon the world around Naomi began to wake too. She could hear other patients and see people walking past to find the beds that housed those they wished to visit. When the curtain pulled away again she thought it was the nurse, Sunny she had learned, returning with a potion she had promised would help with her body aches. Instead, Naomi was met with the stone-blue gaze of a familiar sandy-blonde Durmstrang student. β€œPiper.” She greeted with a soft smile, her words just above a whisper. She shifted slightly in the hospital bed as he rushed to her side and winced slightly as her muscles protested. β€œI believe I’ve felt better after playing quidditch in a hail storm.” She joked gently, a delicate chuckle laced into her tone, and hoped he would take the playful words as a good sign despite how carefully she moved herself where she sat. He looked stressed, his lips drawn and his jaw working as he sat beside her. Her brow furrowed in worry and confusion as she watched him. β€œAre you alright? Do you need me to send for a nurse?” She offered, clearly forgetting that she was the one in the hospital bed.

    He was quick to dismiss her worry and offer of aid, stating that his stress was over missing class more than anything. She watched him carefully, not fully buying his story but decided that if he didn’t want to delve into what was bothering him then she would not pry. Not when he had spent the night looking after her. β€œOh…” She blinked and thought about his question. β€œI’m fine. Really.” She insisted and gave him a reassuring smile. β€œI think this hospital bed was made for rock trolls though…my muscles are aching.” She muttered a bit absently and shook her head which triggered another small wince. Her brow furrowed slightly again upon hearing his next question. β€œRemember?” She let out a soft breath as the word left her pale lips. β€œI believe…no, I know…” She found her gaze meeting Piper’s again. β€œThe last thing I saw was you running down that hall. It is like I blinked and then the next moment I was here.” She glanced around the hospital wing. β€œI must have…passed out…or maybe someone thought it would be funny to slip me a sleeping potion…” She was clearly at a loss as to what happened and looked into Piper’s stormy blue gaze. β€œWhat was I like when you found me? Was there anyone else there with me? Is there any possibility I was on the ill-timed receiving end of a jinx?”



    Mentions: Piper honeycoves honeycoves



    TEMPLATE Β© BOKEH
 
KIARA SINCLAIRE
BEAUXBATONS SECONDARY
Dizzy
History of Magic Classroom
Sigurd TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi
Click Me!
Kiara’s head was pounding when her eyelids finally flickered open that morning, as though her brain had been jam packed with too many thoughts and was now throbbing, close to bursting from the strain. She had dragged herself out of bed with significant effort, her chestnut brown hair falling in her face, tangled in messy waves which she used her fingers to comb through. The girl that looked back at her from the mirror’s surface was a sore sight, her cheeks flushed but her complexion pale, her aqua blue eyes somehow dulled and lifeless in the morning light.

She recalled the events of the night prior, though a majority of it was hazed like a distant memory. Although her spell had been sufficient to temporarily stabilize Professor Arif, the group had decided nevertheless to take him to the infirmary, just to be safe. Kiara hadn’t accompanied them to the hospital wing, resigning to remove herself from the situation before her participation in any illicit events could be confirmed. Still, she felt she had made an enemy last night. She wasn’t looking forward to crossing paths with Vasu again anytime soon.

Twisting the knob on the left of the faucet in their small en suite bathroom, Kiara cupped her hands under the running water, splashing the cold liquid on her face in hopes that it would help jolt her awake. It didn’t. With a groan, she headed back towards her suitcase, throwing it open to reveal a mess of unfolded garments, mostly in varying shades of blue, that had been shoved haphazardly into the leather trunk. She fished out a white skirt embroidered with tiny, blue flowers, and a matching blue sweater which she tugged on over her head.

Her blue eyes flicked towards the clock that sat, ticking obnoxiously on one of the desks in the dorm room, her stomach dropping as she realized she had about five minutes to get across campus to the classroom where history of magic was being held with Professor Einar. Breakfast, evidently, would not be on her agenda today. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of another missed meal when she had barely picked at her dinner yesterday, but she didn’t have time for a pitstop. Stepping carelessly into knee high, tan boots she hurried out the door with her knapsack slung over her shoulder and her History of Magic textbook clutched against her chest.

As she raced through the halls with only half an idea where she was heading, she hoped that Professor Einar would be merciful to her tardiness, having witnessed the very event that had kept her from a timely bedtime the evening prior. She stopped briefly when she reached a long corridor, asking two Ilvermorny students dressed in what appeared to be sports uniforms if they could point her in the right direction. It was only then that she became aware of just how dizzy she was. There was a distinct ringing in her ears that reminded her of the consequences of skipping meals when plagued with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome.

Swallowing thickly, she tried to brush off the spinning in her head, straining to make out what the two Ilvermorny students had just said in response to her question. β€˜Jussup daha antu dalef’ Just up the hall to the left? Deciding that must’ve been what they said, she forced a smile and nodded gratefully β€œThank you.” Her voice came out breathless and airy. The dwindling number of students crowding the halls was all the more assurance that she was running behind, the majority of her class had already gotten settled into their seats she was sure. She only hoped her delayed entrance wouldn’t draw too much attention.

As she approached the doorway to Professor Einar’s classroom, Kiara’s slim frame collided with something solid and unyielding. She let out a strangled umpf as her textbook clattered to the floor, Kiara very nearly almost joined it. Thankfully, she just barely caught herself on the doorframe just in time to prevent herself from falling. β€œMerde, Pardon. Je ne vous y ai pas vu.” (Shit, sorry. I didn’t see you there.) Her brain having slipped back into her native tongue unintentionally. She reached to grab her book, only for her hand to brush against another who was also reaching for it.

Kiara finally looked up to set her gaze on the poor soul she had unceremoniously assaulted on her way into the classroom. The face she was met with was an unfamiliar one. Chocolatey brown eyes stared back at her, shrouded by thick brows and a chiseled jawline. Her very first thought was that the boy in front of her was exceptionally handsome. Her second thought was that she probably looked like quite the trainwreck presently, not the first impression she would’ve hoped to present. Pushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear, Kiara offered him a sheepish smile. β€œSorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
coded by natasha.
 
MOOD: confident > nervous

OUTFIT: uniform(click!)

LOCATION: infirmary > hallwaysCOMMENT]



-------------don't type anything past this comment-------------



[/COMMENT]
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INTERACTIONS: Cha-Cha, Azura

MENTIONS: Darewshi, Malaika
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TAGS:
Aviator Aviator Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Wolfiee Wolfiee
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TL;DR: Conducts business with Cha-Cha, leaves and runs into Ito, Darweshi, + Malaika
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chitrita
Speaking with Arif was a chess match. Every move and word that came from the lame professor, no matter how flippant or casual, felt as calculated as Chitrita's own. Yet, he had much more finesse than she did. His moves felt swifter, almost reflexive. She could see each pawn and piece move, but she didn't feel fast enough to follow his strategy. She had a twisting feeling that she was falling for his gambit.

She pursed her lips as the professor smiled and complimented her cunning, stifling her own smirk. She didn't need a bad influence, she was a quick thinker, she was masterful with her manipulation of the nurses, her professor must have her hands full with her. He didn't know the half of it. And if he knew her any better, she might think he was flirting with her. She maintained her well-practiced, steely stare and razor sharp intensity the same way she always did. After years of manipulating adults and professors into bending to her will, she was unwilling to compromise here with him. Though, he seemed largely unphased by her antics, skating by her questions in favor of his own. She'd need a new approach. Sacrificing pawns weren't getting her where she wanted.

β€œBut really, Chitrita, if you want to know why Vasu did something, why solicit me for answers? I suggest you have a talk with your fiancΓ©. It’s not like I read minds or anything. Now, shouldn’t you be getting to class?" He practically waved her off, treating her so dismissively.

"No," She snapped back, a reflexive lie. "My professor promised to send Professor Birgir a note, excusing my tardiness after the harrowing night I had last night. Saving your sorryβ€”" He looked stupid. He looked like someone smacked him over the head and he couldn't contain his surprise, rendering him near-brain dead. She scrunched her brows together. Was he that surprised she was about to call him a sorry ass, or was there something more sinister to gape at? She smiled slyly and arched an eyebrow. "You seem distracted, professor. Don't tell me you have a thing for school girls." She purred. Despite dismissing her again, he seemed to recover. Mostly. She'd considered leaving, now that he seemed pretty fed up with her and the conversation was not going the way she wanted. But he surprised her. Pleasantly.

β€œWhy are you really here, Chitrita? Did someone send you to speak with me? And if you lie, I will know.”

Chitrita's innocent facade crumbled for a triumphant grin. She liked the directness. She folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. Somehow, a straight standoff made her feel more comfortable. They leveled their gaze with each other. She couldn't help but smirk. "I'm not at liberty to divulge that information." She shrugged, an arrogance air to her voice. "Even if I were, where's the fun in that?" Arif's frustrations seemed to grow with her by the second. "Oh, relax. It's not like I did anything." She lied. Maybe he really could tell if she was lying, but she couldn't outright admit to some of her deviousness. The truth was, she had poisoned him. At the request of another professor who was less than impressed with Cha-Cha's presense already. "I was just put on babysitting duty." Finally, she felt like she had the upper hand in this interaction. She had what he wanted: a name. And he could offer her something for it. Something that might put her ahead.

She rose to her feet, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She stared down at Arif, smiling slightly. "Information comes with a price, Arif. I've been offered quite the payout for my current duties. Highest bidder gets what they want." She winked and bent down to pick her shoulder bag up from the floor. "See you in class, professor." As she turned on her heel to leave, a large clatter and a heavy pull on her arm stopped her. She whipped around to find Arif half collapsed on the floor, clutching her arm for support. She almost pitied him in this state, as he offered her a sheepish smile and an apology for his mishap as a nurse rushed to his aid. She simply looked at him for a moment, before leaving to head to class. She was late, after all.

She wasn't rushing. She had plenty of time. She could craft some sob story to Einar about how scared she was for Arif and couldn't, in good consciousness, leave him there alone without checking on him. She had faith he'd believe her, he had no reason not to. She was just preparing her sniveling, shy school girl persona when all plans came to a screeching halt just around the corner of the History of Magic classroom.

"Ito-sensei!" She exclaimed in shock. Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide at the sight of her second least favorite professor. Ito earned one spot above that creep Miura who taught Care of Magical Creatures. She was convinced he'd failed her for no good reason. At least Ito couldn't fail her, she was the best potions student at Mahoutokoro. But, here Ito was, surrounded by a grown man she didn't recognize and a girl with striking white hair.

She knit her eyebrows together. "Where is Toro-sensei?" She glanced around as if the young professor would appear. Ito's presence sent an uneasy shock through Chitrita. She could only hope that Ito was here to escort Odinson back to Japan, where he belonged. Her reward for dealing with Arif was a promise that Odinson would be eliminated from the competition and she would be awarded champion in his place. Maybe Ito was here to personally deliver the news of her promotion and Odinson's potential expulsion. She clenched her fists around the straps of her shoulder bag tightly. Unless Ito had caught wind of another one of Chitrita's schemes. Maybe she was here for her escorting back home. How embarrassing would that be. She needed to protect herself. "I'm embarrassed to admit, professor, I'm late for class. There was a mishap last night, and I've spent the morning in the infirmary." She glanced away shyly. "I'm pleased you're here, but Toro-senesi was meant to send Professor Einar a note excusing my tardinessβ€”" Lie. "β€”but I hope she's caught you up?"
I could draw you dot to dot
I know I could save you
I deserve a special spot
I could be your favorite
code by valen t.
 

Tech N9ne Music Video GIF - Tech N9ne Music Video Hoodgocrazy ...
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​

Darweshi Nyache​

Ilvermorny Dining Hall​

"Engai be praised!"​


Darweshi's train of thought was barreling down the tracks at a thousand miles an hour. Here he was, on display in front of a crowd of people, arms flapping like the wings of his beloved rooster Kukuru while Professor Ito stood there, papers obscuring her face. Was she angry at Darweshi for turning a regular encounter into a spectacle? Was she calm, maintaining her composure as to save face? Or was she embarrassed over--ooh! Darweshi's train of thought screeched to a halt as he noticed that he could read the schedule stuck on Professor Ito's face. He leaned in a little so he could read a specific line of text. Auri was in Care of Magical Creatures? Darweshi nodded his head as he recalled her particular set of skills. Then, like a faucet sprung back on, Darweshi was back to panicking. His hands shot out out to grab the papers plastered on Professor Ito's face, relented at the last minute, then reached out again. His erratic movements, along with his hands waving about, would give one the impression he was about to cast another wandless spell. Should he try to get the schedule off? Or should he let her take the papers off herself to minimize the risk of accidentally slapping her hands away? These questions and more assaulted Darweshi's mind, along with the question of the impact of his actions.

Azura Ito, prolific Potioneer, would mostly likely consider him a bumbling oaf for the rest of her life, which was forever. She would never see him as the gifted fellow Potions Professor he knew he was. To make matters worse, when word eventually spread, Darweshi would become more than the laughingstock of the dining hall. There were seven more destinations to go in this tournament, and the students and professors he would be traveling with would be laughing the whole way. The Potions professor ultimately decided that he should get the papers himself to save some miniscule amount of face. Slowing his motion down to a snail's pace, Darweshi reached out to peel the packet of papers from the other Professor's face. He then scratched the back of his head, eyes averting her gaze and his hands not knowing what to do with the papers. Do I offer them back immediately? Or should I give her a moment to get the hair out of her face?

Just as Darweshi was about to retrieve his trusty prayer beads and make a religious escape with his tail between his legs, an angel arrived on the scene, eager to earn her wings. A familiar face stepped beside him, her hands gracefully moving in the air to cast a spell. When he saw Malaika coming to his rescue, Darweshi was just about ready to break out the Darweshi Dance. However, he decided against it for the moment. In the calm and focused prose he was so accustomed to hearing as one of her professors, she advocated for him like the world's finest lawyer. As if presenting a project to the class, Malaika spoke on his behalf, translating his actions into the words he was unable to express in his frenzy. And as Darweshi's student worked her magic, without casting a single spell, Darweshi's spirits ascended to heaven, far into the stars with Engai. The Uagadou Potions professor was so stunned by the turn of events that it took him a moment to realize she had finished speaking and had once more given him the floor, the perfect opportunity to give a proper apology. With a quick cough and a crossing of his arms, Darweshi took the baton offered to him, determined to bring it home.

"Yes, as my wonderful student..." Darweshi turned to his side and returned Malaika's look, throwing in a wink before turning back. "...Put so well, I may have gotten a little too excited to meet a personal idol of mine. And in my excitement, I created this present mess. So please, I beg," Darweshi offered the papers to Professor Ito with a bowed head. "Forgive me."

Before the other Professor could dispense judgement upon Darweshi, the voice of a younger girl yelped her name. He turned around and watched her approach the scene, clearly distressed. She spoke of being late to class because of an extended morning stay in the infirmary. It was at this point that Darweshi's eyes expanded like the airbag in a muggle automobile. If she was in there when Darweshi rose from his slumber, she could inadvertently divulge the fact that he put himself in a coma for most of yesterday! Seeing as Professor Ito now had a student situation to deal with, Darweshi saw this as the perfect opportunity to let things cool down. He would get his shot at true redemption later. The Kenyan greedily turned to the food lines, intending to celebrate with a mighty feast. And with the few remaining students rushing to class as to not become even later, he would practically have the whole hall to himself! Then, Darweshi remembered that among the late students was his dear Malaika. Darweshi knew what had to be done. With a heavy sigh and an empty stomach, he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Malaika, I cannot thank you enough for your help," Darweshi began, silently mourning his failure to attend not one, but two buffets as of thus far. "You assisted me in my time of need, so I want to help you in yours! What class do you have first? We'll walk together and I'll speak on your behalf so you don't receive a tardy mark on day one. This will also serve as a chance to tell me about the opening ceremony!"

As Darweshi took in the sights and smells of the dining hall one last time, he noticed another student just finishing a hefty breakfast befitting of his size. As a matter of fact, he was taller than Darweshi, a fact the 40-year old noted as the raven-haired boy got up to put away his tray. What are they feeding the children these days?! In the aftermath of his good deed, he decided to go for seconds. "You there! I see you are enjoying a late breakfast! If you wish to avoid a tardy mark, come with us!" His invitation extended, Darweshi shifted back to Malaika. "Any idea where exactly your first class is?"
 
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OIP.uO8ryVREOriU_nd69XwVlgHaIc

Sigurd Berg​

History of Magic Classroom​

"...Ow..."​
To Sigurd's disappointment, History of Magic had already started when he opened the door. Professor Einar was in the middle of a sentence when his attention was brought to the doorframe, where Sigurd was standing. The Durmstrang boy was hoping he would have the chance to select a strategic seating arrangement, but it seemed his choices were going to be narrow this time. Sitting in the front showed eagerness to engage in class, while sitting in the back displayed an urge to avoid attention. With a mental sigh of relief, he noticed an open spot in the front row. Perhaps this was a sign of better things to come. This class was the perfect opportunity for him to show his advocate that he made a good decision in picking Sigurd as replacement Champion. Especially since History of Magic was a subject Sigurd was well-versed in. It was Father's belief that knowing the stories behind great wizards and witches would give one a finer appreciation for the spells they cast, and how to better utilize them. While still planted firmly in the doorway, Sigurd caught the gaze of a blonde student with eyes reminiscent of pine trees. Something was clearly on her mind, but was there a chance it had to do with him? The next thing Sigurd noticed was the awkward fact that he was standing there like a stump instead of a student who was clearly late and had paused the lesson with his entrance. He shook himself out of his analytical mode and quickly nodded his head to his Professor in apology.

"I apologize for my lack of punctuality, Professor Einar." He stated before raising a foot forward to enter the classroom and take his seat. That singular step was as far as Sigurd managed to go, on his own appendages, anyway. As soon as he started moving, the young man was immediately bumped from behind. While it wouldn't have been a problem had he two feet planted on the ground, the shove had caught him mid-step. Thanks to that modifier, the impact was forceful enough to send Sigurd sprawling to the ground. At the very least, he landed on his elbows and knees instead of flopping onto the ground like a dead fish. Quick to act, Sigurd shook off his surprise to turn around and assess the situation. A glance upwards gave him a good look at his assailant, another female student with long hair the color of dark caramel. She was standing where he was standing a few moments ago, a textbook on the ground between the two of them. Sigurd had yet to decide his emotional response to the accident, but at the very least, he could give the girl her book. A slight pain awaited him when he ascended to his feet, but he kept a straight face as he walked over to the book and bent down to pick it up. The female student had the same idea and the two collectively felt their hands briefly touch. Sigurd's hand didn't flinch at the contact. It instead encouraged him to scoop the book up faster and return to a standing position. When they both stood up, Sigurd began to breathe heavily, indicating he was thinking hard about his approach.

On one hand, he wasn't happy about taking a dive in front of a class of his peers at all. The last thing he wanted was to look vulnerable, and this girl was the direct cause of it. God forbid any of the other champions were in attendance. He would have to work twice as hard to bury this memory from their minds. On the other hand, a second examination of the girl who collided with him brought up new talking points. The ever so slight droop of her eyelids over her sea blue eyes, her brown mane of hair spread out in every which direction, her own labored breathing. She was masking exhaustion behind that nervous smile, and a lot of it. Coupled with the heaving of her chest, Sigurd figured she must have been running quite a distance to reach her destination. The Durmstrang champion wondered what could possibly have happened last night to cause this, but once again, he realized he was staring while thinking all this through. Sigurd looked down at the textbook for a moment before slowly offering it back to her. And just like with his first step into the class, this would be the only action that he intentionally performed before everything went wrong.

Sigurd must have pulled a muscle or something of the sort during his fall, because a sharp pain in his elbow caused him to flinch and drop the textbook directly onto the already tired and embarrassed girl's foot. Which then forced him to have to pivot once more into his mind for a response. Should he show concern for her well-being with an 'are you okay'? Or should he begin profusely apologizing and start with an 'I'm so sorry'? These two possible responses met at a crossroads, causing a disastrous pile-up on said crossroad and jumbling up the two options as Sigurd spoke.

"Are you sorry?" Sigurd loudly grunted in a voice still trying its best to mask the pain its body had endured seconds ago. Every eye in the room was now solely on Sigurd, once again. Sigurd, the boy who had arrived late to class, stared off into space like an oaf, got caught in a collision, and now, seemingly in a display of revenge, assaulted the poor girl who was just trying to make it to class on time after a rough night. Sigurd couldn't see a single move to recover at this point. So without another word, he turned around and marched to the back of the class, where he would garner as little attention as possible. He took a seat next to a student with a shaved head and piercings who also looked to be going through some things at the moment. Perfect, misery loves company.
 
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Chahaya β€œCha-Cha” Arif // β€œDysfunctional Ex-Con” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
​
Chitrita’s pretense of a concerned fiancΓ©e dropped away like a cloak she wore against the weather. There was a chilling light in her eyes as a smile stretched across her face. Cha-Cha felt a flash of fury as she gloated, but he said nothing, even when she looked to him for a reaction. Let her keep talking. Let her congratulate herself on her perceived victory, and she might let slip a sliver of information he could use. He mentally filed away the facts as she spat them out, sorting them by likelihood of truth. Someone had sent herβ€”that checked out. She claimed she hadn’t done anything to him, yet Cha-Cha hadn’t directly asked if she had. The fact that her mind would even go there in the first place gave him doubt. Besides, he’d never woken up and not been able to use his Legilimencyβ€”except for the years in Azkaban when he’d been drugged to the point that someone could steal the clothes off his back and he wouldn’t know it. But his powers had always returned when he finally sobered, and he was lucid now. The only other possibility was that it was a strange side effect of the cobra venom.
And then, Chitrita’s final implication: She’d been offered a payout. She may not actually care what happened to him, but there was something in it for her. She was getting something important in exchange for some service… in exchange for babysitting him, as she put it? Just passively watching him as he slept, which a House Elf might gladly do for free? A prickle of incongruence went through Cha-Cha, the sort of eerie feeling you get when you notice a painting hangs slightly crooked on a wall. Except this painting is at a ninety-degree fucking angle, Cha-Cha thought spitefully. Chitrita was the direct reason his Legilimency was gone, and the unknown person who’d bribed her to do it was the indirect reason. The questions he needed answered were who the real threat was, how she had done it, and when the effects would wear off. If they wore off. Maybe something would have to be done to reverse the spell or potion she’d used, some antidote administered. A haunting thought lingered at the back of Cha-Cha’s mind. What if there was no reversing it? It was too early to assume that, of course. But what if? Without Legilimency to defend him, it was like stringing a Welcome! sign up on his door and inviting every enemy he’d ever had to come inside and take their shot at him.
Until he recovered his powers, no one could know that Chahaya Arifβ€”wayward therapist and charlatan, murderer for ideals and then for profitβ€”had ever lost them. Right now, the only thing that could help him short of actually regaining his Legilimency was making Chitrita believe that he still had it. If he could convincingly pretend that she’d failed, then it might forestall her benefactor’s move against him. β€œIf you think I am going to reward your insolence, you are mistaken,” Cha-Cha growled in a voice that was all frost and curses.
Chitrita scoffed in a way that implied she was challenging him to do his worst, when his army was all toy soldiers and fighter jets built from Legos. She straightened in her seat self-importantly, and a gold heart-shaped locket winked at Cha-Cha, mocking the losing game he’d played. It rested in the divot between her collar bones, the top button of her uniform shirt undone to reveal it. He gave her a once-over, scanning for any other jewelry, but there was none to be found, minus two inconspicuous studs in her earlobes. In his experience, women who mostly dismissed jewelry attached sentimental value to the sole exception. Interesting. He wouldn’t have taken Chitrita for the sentimental type. But everyone had their weaknesses to be exploited.
Her business concluded, Chitrita flicked her hair away from her face and stood to leave. She bent to retrieve the purse sitting on the floor beside her chair. The heart-shaped locket tumbled forward, beckoning. Like an unguarded bit of flash on a tourist’s neck as they marveled at a foreign city. Like something Cha-Cha had done a hundred times before while louder, more talented boys juggled or danced or did card tricks, commanding the audience’s attention and making them easy pickings for the quiet things that prowled at the back. Knowing that it was now or never, he peeled back the sheet and swung his legs over his bedside. His left ankle was still swollen, and after a night of venom-induced paralysis, his legs were wobbly, like those of a newborn foal. Unwilling to support his weight, his knees knocked together, and he tumbled forward with a gasp, catching himself on the only thing separating him from a broken nose on the floor. Chitrita herself.
One of his hands found her arm for balance, while the other clutched the back of her neck, barely saving them from bumping heads. Alarm lit up Chitrita’s face like a candle to find a professor suddenly using her as a crutch. And then it pinched in disdain. Cha-Cha expected to be kicked away like a stray cat, and was mildly surprised that she tolerated his proximity long enough for him to find his footing on legs that wouldn’t stop shaking. β€œGoodness, so sorry,” he laughed nervously as he disentangled himself. He stepped back and braced himself with one hand on the bed. β€œMaybe those drinks on an empty stomach did me more harm than good. Don’t know what I would have done without you here to help me out, dear.” He smiled, abashed but good-natured, willing to poke fun at his own foolishness. Chitrita did not share his levity. She glared, and then she spun on her heel and vanished from the hospital wing.
As a nurse descended on him, shooing him back into bed, Cha-Cha carefully closed his fist around the heart-shaped locket. Despite himself, he liked Chitrita. She was bold and brazen and quick on her feet. And damnably smart. He liked her even more, now that he had something of hers to use against her. That cunning, cunning bitch. Well, unlucky her, two can play that game. He stifled a grin. Nonetheless, the show Chitrita had put on was so impressive, he had to bet on her to win the first challenge. Sorry, Lis. It’s nothing personal. I go where the money’s at, he thought, a trifle contrite.
He waited for the nurse to leave, shooting him a warning glare, before he inspected the locket, letting it dangle from his fingers on its chain of gold. The interior yielded beneath his grip, unlocked, to reveal the face of a teenage boy of Indian descent. He shared some features with Chitrita: full lips parted in a crooked smile, almond-shaped eyes that glittered with intelligence, high cheekbones. Below his picture was a label that read Aadesh. Based on their resemblance, Cha-Cha was willing to bet that Aadesh’s last name was Pawar. Time to do some research on Aadesh, then. β€œIf these wealthy pureblood twats think they’re so much better than us,” Cha-Cha crooned to himself, delirious from his small victory when all hope had seemed lost minutes ago, β€œthen why do they fall for the same trick every time?” Not having any pockets on his hospital gown, he snapped the locket shut in his fist.
Getting his dispatch approved by the head nurse wasn’t so easy. Eventually, he claimedβ€”not untruthfullyβ€”that he had some lesson plans to be submitted by tonight and had to get working on them immediately. Although the latter half of that statement was not true to intent. When he proved to the nurse that he could walk with minimal difficultyβ€”tears threatened to well up in Cha-Cha’s eyes when he banged his left foot on the floor in emphasis, but he concealed the factβ€”she grimly consented to his departure. Or maybe she just realized that, short of physical or magical force, no amount of arguing was going to stop him. She gave him a key on a leather clip with the numbers 542 sewn into it in colorful thread and directed him to the fifth floor, not knowing that he’d already been on its opposite half last night.
With his rumpled suit from last night’s Opening Ceremony wadded up in his arms, Cha-Cha beelined for the elevator. He did not want to be stopped for conversation dressed in nothing but a frumpy hospital gown, and he did not feel up to tackling four flights of stairs. Fortunately, class had already begun, so the hallways were mostly empty, but still, he checked around corners before committing. Which was a really good thing he did, because he would have run headlong into Chitritaβ€”againβ€”had he not, who was deep in conversation with a tall white woman in an expensive suit.
Not wanting her to see him walking around able-bodied with her locket hanging from his wrist when he’d deceived her into thinking him a hapless invalid, Cha-Cha swerved away and was panting when he got into the elevator and pressed the fifth floor repeatedly, willing the doors to close faster. Wondering if the middle-aged woman Chitrita was talking with was the culprit who had put her up to the job. The obvious answer was Bellini, the fellow Legilimens who had made his disapproval of Cha-Cha’s presence clear at the Opening Ceremony, and promised him a world of living hell in the event that anything went awry during this school year. Yes, because Vasu Saini running off with some overdressed dandy’s cane is totally my fault. I planted the idea in his head, corrupted his good heart. I am, indeed, the Devil, he thought, rolling his eyes.
Room 542 really was a beautiful place, large and bright and modern. A dining table of polished wood big enough to accommodate a fairly large dinner party dominated the living room. The plush sofas were the kind that you could sink into for a good, long slumber. Light reading material and an ornamental plate were tastefully arranged on a coffee table. To his surprise, an oversize television hung from one wall, trying to look discreet and failing miserably. Cha-Cha fought off the temptation to immediately set aside his quest for research and plug in his Nintendo Switch. The large, ornately carved block of purple and white where the soap should have been was a work of art, and Cha-Cha reflexively cast about for the thing that he was supposed to use for hand-washing, because this was clearly too beautiful to be it.
His two meager suitcases, one of which consisted of gaming devices almost exclusively, had already been brought up for him. Alarmingly, when he opened the wardrobe, half of it was already taken up by clothes in a men’s thirty-six, still with the price tags on. The numbers he saw prompted yet another raised eyebrow. Good fuck… Does everyone get the special treatment, or just ex-cons with mind-effery powers that are currently useless? he wondered. Then, Are overpriced clothes a consolation prize from the hosts who drugged me while I was asleep? β€œWe took your psychic weapons, but here’s some Louis Vuitton freebies to make it better?”
Cha-Cha eyed a chunky argyle sweater warily, perhaps the most unassuming piece in the whole wardrobe, wondering if it was magically enchanted to strangle him. Deciding that there was only one way to find out, he slipped the wool sweater on and layered a pear-green button-down over top, remembering that Americans were overfond of air conditioning and he tended to freeze. Then he pulled on some sandy-colored trousers that rolled up at the ankle. From his own luggage he selected a brown pair of ankle boots with a Cuban heel, because footwear was the only thing he was particular about. Last, he put on a hunter-green fedora with a black band, the brim pulled low over his eyes. Back when he'd been a grunt running with Anak Bangsat, the boys had put razor blades in their hats to be used as improvised weapons in the event of a dispute they weren't counting on.
He was about to go out the door and to the library to do some research on Legilimency-numbing magic and Aadesh Pawar, when Cha-Cha paused. Backtracked to his room, to a small, discreet pouch on the outside of his gaming suitcase. He uncapped a clear plastic vial containing green-and-white pills. He took one, and when he decided that one wouldn’t be enough for the next few hours, he took two. There was so much bloody fanfare in this Octowizard Tournament, and while it might have been justified because it was the first of its kind, Cha-Cha didn’t want to be a part of half of it. In retrospect, he was immeasurably thankful that the Triwizard Tournament had been an honorable, but distinctly quieter, affair when he’d competed at Mahoutokoro fifteen years ago. When Sasaki Ken’ichi, the host school’s champion, had made it clear to him that mixed-blood bastard offspring sullied the Wizarding community, and tried to get Cha-Cha disqualified for cheating at the end of the tournament. And, fifteen years later, he had Chitrita’s smug face to deal with instead. Cha-Cha pocketed two more pills for deployment as necessary as the day went on, sure he’d use them sooner or later.
Trying to convince himself that he wasn’t a walking target without his Legilimency, Cha-Cha swallowed down his unease and reluctantly left his ridiculously luxurious room. Now is not the time to become an agoraphobe, Arif, he reminded himself. You have classes to teach, a champion to mentor, photos to pose for, and Aurors likely knocking at your door with warrants before the week is out for some shit or another. All fun stuff. He ran a hand through his hair, which was still hanging loose so that it might serve as a flimsy barrier from others observing his face too closely. His other hand was in his pocket, where it rested gently against the heart-shaped locket with Aadesh’s picture inside. Cha-Cha slunk down the corridors to the library as unobtrusively as possible, trying not to jump whenever he encountered another living soul.
 
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  • Professor Azura Ito
    Mahoutokoro - Female - Half-Blood - Professor


    Being met with a face full of papers in answer to her question wasn’t exactly what Azura had expected upon approaching the man who was to be her colleague for what would likely be the remainder of the year. Through the battering of papers that flew into her face before she could raise a hand to stop them, she heard the younger man's panicked apologies and did her best to school her expression, keeping it calm and in a centuries-practiced mask as she and this strange professor both pulled the parchment from her face. She hardly noticed the slight sting left in the wake of the unintentional attack until the slight tickle of liquid running down her cheek alerted her to it. Lifting her hand the chestnut-haired woman ran her fingers delicately across the trail and pulled them away to examine the crimson painted upon their pads. Reaching into the pocket of her tailored black pants she withdrew a scrap of fabric and began to remove the blood from her flesh. In a swift movement, she raised her other hand, preparing to request this goateed man before her to cease his spewing of apologies as the damage was already done and she still had work to do. Her words were halted before they left her dusty rose lips however when like lighting a young woman with white hair and blue eyes appeared before them.

    Instantly this girl seemed to jump into damage control mode as though she were born to be a keeper of the peace. Azura did not so much as flinch when the young woman's hand danced before her face and she felt the telltale tickling pinch of the flesh sealing itself back together. Clearly, this girl had a grasp of simple healing spells, at least showing enough sense to know which one to use to mend a simple paper cut. Listening to the young woman Azura glanced between the professor and his student, studying the duo with some level of interest. β€œYou have a fine ally in this young mind, Professor,” Azura said after a moment of consideration upon hearing the man's apology on the tail of his student's smoothing words. The fire that had burned in her within the first few heartbeats of being hit in the face seemed to have been quelled though she would keep in mind to take great care when asking this man for favors in the future. β€œPerhaps next time it would be advised that you point me in the direction of the schedule?” She suggested trying her best to have the words delivered in as kind a tone as she could manage. β€œMight help with saving time on the cleanup.” She jested, quirking her perfectly sculpted eyebrow and giving the both of them a small smirk. She had just arrived and in a room where students still dwelled it would be ill form to lose her temper on a man who had so frantically apologized for striking her. Currently, it seemed he bore her no ill will, in fact, he had admitted to being a fan of her work, so she felt little need to scold him as she might have within the first few heartbeats of the incident.

    Before the conversation could move any further one way or the other a familiar voice sounded to Azura’s left and her whiskey gaze turned to zero in on Chitrita. β€œPawar-san.” Azura acknowledged the young woman who was one of her finest students but also an individual she knew to keep a close eye upon. Glancing at the great clock that hung just above the doorway of the hall she narrowed her gaze back upon Chitrita. β€œYour first subject began several minutes ago. I would expect as a representative of Mahoutokoro you would be punctual, especially on your first day.” She observed as she took in the young woman's wide dark eyes and unhinged jaw. Chitrita was quick to inquire where Professor Toro had gone and even quicker to jump into an excuse for her tardiness the potions master would have to be a fool to believe knowing that Toro had been called back to Mahoutokoro the night prior when the unfortunate incident that occurred to poor Odinson had first been discovered when the young man's body was still warm though his soul had departed it. β€œToro-sensei mentioned no such thing to me in their report of the events leading to this morning when I spoke with them last night and again before I departed this Mahoutokoro this morning.” She informed the young woman bluntly before reminding herself that she would have to correct her student's error in coming up with excuses for her tardiness later. Letting a soft sigh slip past her lips the dark-haired immortal’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at Chitrita. Again, she was uncertain as to how the young woman would take the news she had to share but she knew that their talk was one that would be needing privacy.

    β€œNo matter, it is perhaps for the best that I did not have to pull you from your lessons.” She continued and beckoned for Mahoutokoro’s shining student to follow her. β€œCome Pawar-san, there is something we need to discuss and it is in your best interest to do so in privacy,” Azura advised and held her arm out to usher Chitrita forward without actually touching the gold-clad student. Guiding her pupil down the long corridors of Ilvermorny Azura only paused once they had made it out to a secluded garden where the potions master could ensure a few moments of uninterrupted peace by casting a temporary rendition of Protego Totalum around the duo. No matter what Chitrita’s reaction may be to the news she wanted the young woman to have the comfort of knowing no one other than Azura would overhear her or see whatever response may be elicited from her.

    Once the spell was cast and the two were sealed behind its shielding barrier Professor Ito turned to her student. She could practically see the nervous energy Chitrita was trying to choke down and hide behind her own well-sculpted mask. Was she worried Azura had come to give her news that she was being removed? Perhaps, it wasn’t an impossible thing to consider when all the possibilities were unknown at the moment. Nodding towards a two-seater stone bench at the center of the small garden Azura motioned for Chitrita to sit and took her own spot next to the young woman. β€œPawar-san…” She began and sighed knowing that the name was formal but right now it felt too formal for the news about to be shared. There was still a voice within Azura that whispered her prized potions student may in fact secretly rejoice upon hearing the news but she prayed that if she did that she would keep it to herself and at least attempt remorse. Still, there was another part of her that believed that while ambitious Chitrita still had a heart and any reaction she gave may be genuine in which case Azura knew she would need to do her best to support the young woman.

    β€œChitrita…” She began again, her words careful as she placed them out into their private world. β€œLast night there was an incident after the opening ball. We are still investigating what exactly happened but I regret to inform you that Odinson-san did not survive it.” She made sure each word was said clearly and carefully with the respect her deceased student deserved and respect for however long it may take for Chitrita to process what was said. β€œI know this news must be surprising but I assure you we are taking this situation seriously as we are also taking your safety seriously. Toro-sensei has returned to Mahoutokoro and I have been sent to act as your advisor and to keep an eye on you for your own wellbeing.” She continued knowing there were likely mixed feelings flooding the young woman's system with each word she spoke. There was certainly more she had to say on the subject but she wanted to ensure Chitrita had a chance to process the information and express herself as she needed in the moment. β€œI will keep you safe.” She swore as she knew it was quite possible that the young woman was worried for her own life in the wake of her fellow student's death. The two had never had a strong fondness for one another but Chitrita was still her student and she would be damned before she let someone cut her life short as they had Odinson.



    Mentions: Darweshi TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Mal Wolfiee Wolfiee Chitrita honeycoves honeycoves



    TEMPLATE Β© BOKEH
 


  • Professor Birger Einar
    Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor


    The clatter of two bodies colliding rather solidly with one another towards the back of his classroom was enough to draw the glacier gaze of the aged professor from his papers to the duo that had caused the commotion. β€œAh,” He began with a not-unkind smile forming on his bearded face. β€œMiss Sinclaire, Mr. Berg, wonderful to have you in attendance today. I hope the morning treated you both well.” He greeted the pair. β€œI hope the desire to learn wasn’t too badly knocked from you two with that unfortunate collision.” He added with a playful wink that was a clear attempt to cool the rough words of the most recent addition from Dirmstrang. He gave the two a nod before turning to look over the rest of the class. β€œIt seems the first day has led to several of our student body getting lost on their way to class. I do hope they join us soon for I fear our first lesson will not have the same affect on all of you the second time around.” He commented, his voice filling the room with little effort on his end.

    He paused to allow the students to find their seats and once all those in attendance were comfortably positioned behind a desk of their choosing the old man stood and picked up his cane and a thick dusty old book. Making his way with his usual limp to the front of his desk the old man looked down at the book in his hand thoughtfully. β€œAt this point in your education, I have doubts that I would need to inform you as to what the basic expectation of this class would be. History of Magic as a name tends to do a fine job describing itself.” He began, his eyes never leaving the well-aged tome that he held firmly in one hand. β€œBut something I want to make clear is that while many of you might find this subject to be far less entertaining than others it is by no means any less important. It is in the name, history, that it is our story of how we as a society came to be today. We all have our own stories that we are in the process of writing and every moment that passes becomes our history, your story that ties into the stories of others and makes the world we know around us every second of every day.” His brow furrowed slightly as he spoke. β€œNot every part of it is interesting, not every part of it is fun, and not every part has a happy ending.” He paused then glanced up toward the class with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

    β€œBut those are not parts we shall be discussing today.” He announced as he flipped the book open and from it sprang forth an aurora borialis of illusions depicting different points in history. Quidditch matches from decades ago that were still spoken of as things of legends. The soaring forms of dozens of owls flying in formations over muggle battlefields, dropping items to aid the British soldiers on the front lines. Orthrum Onyxfyord the wizarding pirate king and his enchanted ship The Leviathan. Countless images of historical moments flooded through the classroom, weaving between desks as epic broom-mounted warriors swooped over the student's heads. β€œHistory is full of moments that make us look back and want to remember. We keep track of it, learn it, teach it, because without it we lose that which has made us who we are as a people and as individuals. No matter your feelings towards this subject I have seldom found a soul that does not have at least one historical moment they think of with great fondness, that they would like to have witnessed or at least know more about. These moments here are some of mine.” He waved his hand toward the epic illusions that filled the room. β€œNow who can tell me one of theirs?”


    Mentions: Sigurd TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Kiara WanderLust. WanderLust. and anyone currently in History of Magic



    TEMPLATE Β© BOKEH
 

OIP.66wHbW3KmfMjyPwR8-Y6VgHaFc

Altair Ibn Layla​

Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry​

"The Eagle has landed!"​
"Aw, come on! How is this even fair?!"

Mahoutokoro student Altair Ibn Layla stood in front of the entrance to Ilvermorny Castle, his suitcase next to him and an open letter in his hand. The rising yellow-orange orb in the sky indicated that it was early in the morning on this side of the globe, the source of Altair's unhappy disposition. He squinted his eyes and watched the retreating form of Professor Ito as she walked away from the school and in the direction of a forest path. Altair read through the letter again before groaning upon re-completion.

"We just finished a full day of school back home and now I have to go for round two?!" Altair aired out in frustration. He hoped that his professor had some way of getting him out of another stint of being stuck in classrooms, but as soon as the duo touched down in North America, her mind was somewhere else. She looked around the area wistfully, as if she had been here before long ago. And considering the lady had cracked the code for immortality, she probably had. Next thing Altair knew, she announced that she needed sometime alone and that he was free to settle himself in while she was gone. How was he supposed to settle himself in when according to the Headmaster's letter, he was supposed to report to Care of Magical Creatures? Altair was not a fan of animals, never had been. His father spoiled his children rotten, the children of his first wife anyways, and gave them whatever they desired. At the ages of 13 and 11, his two older brothers Mahmood and Ayaz had twin Yemeni hounds that did whatever they pleased. Which included making messes of his things, barking at him and chasing him around the desert they called home. Which wasn't far off from what their masters did.

The boy took a deep breath and began to stretch. He positioned his left arm into the crease of his right elbow and twisted his body, then did inverse for his right arm. He wouldn't let his joy be victim to circumstance. Life had been too good to him for that to happen. After his brief exercise, Altair reached beneath his silver robe to touch the necklace that housed the Hajar. He ran his fingers along the enchanted stone's smooth surface and began to feel just the tiniest bit giddy, as if the stone held some hidden reserve of energy to tap into. Life had been too good, indeed. And with the help of his lucky charm, it was about to get better. Reinvigorated, Altair pulled out his wand and made a 'V' shape in the air with it, then aimed it at his luggage.

"Reducio!" He incantated. A small whirlwind shot out of the wand and circled around the suitcase, shrinking it down to the side of an action figure. The suitcase was now easier to carry, and it also revealed what Altair really needed. Laying under the suitcase was an orange-brown carpet with a yellow pattern zig-zagging along the outside perimeter. A thunderbolt with streaks of white mixed in was at the center of the carpet. Seeing as he was already running late, Altair decided that he would find his class in style. He stood on top of it and felt the familiar feeling of weightlessness as his flying carpet lifted him into the air like an elevator. While ascending, Altair got a better look at Ilvermorny Castle and the various buildings in its vicinity. They were all dreary, with their grey stone walls. The school's design was so unlike Mahoutokoro, with its pyramid structure that rose to the heavens. The tiled roofs were sloped and had pointed edges that curved upwards like demon horns, unlike Ilvermorny's simple green tops. Hopefully, things looked more interesting on the inside. If you were looking for something, you would keep your eyes open for it. But considering the mystical accessory Altair was in possession of, he didn't need to search for a thing. He could feel the wheels of fate turning, pushing him in the direction he desired. Suddenly, he had a gut feeling that the direction he should start moving in is northeast. When he felt he was high enough, the boy put a foot ahead of himself and leaned forward, accelerating and picking up speed. Typically, one sat or remained on their knees while riding a magic carpet, but Altair stood on his feet. It felt more exhilarating, and there was probably a lesson in aerodynamics somewhere, but the student didn't want to mix business with pleasure at the moment.

It felt so natural, being up in the air. Altair sometimes wondered if he was a jinn all along, a wind spirit made of air. The cool morning wind blew in his face, which assisted in waking him up a little more. Glancing downwards, Altair noticed a few ant-sized blips moving around the school's perimeter. The boy's thoughts couldn't help but wander towards a certain classmate. This is what Odinson must feel like all the time! He wondered where the big lug was, and what kind of trouble he got himself into. The context of his departure from the tournament was briefly mentioned by the Headmaster, then never mentioned again. All that was said was that the super-sized student sustained an injury during the opening ceremony and while he spend time convalescing, an additional student was needed to help represent Mahoutokoro. At first, Altair was excited, mentally coaching himself not to break out in a backflip upon the Headmaster's inevitable request that the Flying Eagle serve as his school's champion. Then, the other shoe dropped as the Headmaster revealed that he was to serve as Chitrita Pawar's secondary. Although disappointed, Altair quickly pivoted. He was still about to go on an all expenses paid trip around the world, which meant good times were about to roll in. There were sights to see and people to meet, and Altair hoped that the atmospheres of the other schools weren't as stuffy as Mahoutokoro's. He didn't even mind Professor Ito being the new chaperone, as she'd most likely have her hands full coaching Chitrita. He hoped that the news about Odinson wouldn't dampen her spirits. She was a good girl from a good home, dangerous situations like these didn't happen around people like that. Which was exactly why Headmaster put him on the case! What better choice was there than Mahoutokoro's resident daredevil to replace the larger than life Odinson Locjaw? The resident daredevil, and his lucky charm!

Now floating on both his carpet and a head of hot air, Altair continued to traverse the sky until something else caught his eye and ears down below. He could hear screaming as a black creature momentarily reached its apex in the sky before descending back down towards a gathering of bodies on the ground. But just before it touched down, the creature seemed to shrink and disappear. Altair crossed his arms. Whoever the professor was, she had better be careful. Care of Magical Creatures was going to become Care of Soiled Robes if she kept up with stunts like those. With a reluctant sigh, Altair commanded his flying carpet to begin descending, careful to give himself distance away from the class. He landed behind some trees and after rolling up and stowing his carpet behind a bush, emerged from his landing spot and walked towards the amphitheater where class was being held. The closer he got, the more he began to detect the smell of smoke. Altair longed to be in the sky once more, but alas, there was work to be done. At the moment, a woman was standing center stage, all eyes on her. And for good reason, because it seemed like the dragon wasn't the only smoking hot black creature in the area. The lady was a stunning bombshell with long, black hair. An older man with a handsome salt and pepper beard stood next to her, prompting Altair to mentally pray. Don't let her be the professor, don't let her be the professor--

"If any of you try anything, you’ll find yourselves in detention faster than you can say Hebridean," The beautiful brunette stated sternly.

Right before Altair could start praying for her to be single instead, he noticed that there wasn't a single seat available, which would require him to stand at the back of the class like a sore thumb. Suddenly, a nearby student clutched his stomach, as if he had been struck with a deadly spell. Altair heard him groan, then lament to the other student on the bench that he shouldn't have stocked up on the beans and rice at yesterday's banquet. As he sprinted back in the direction of Ilvermorny, still clutching his stomach, Altair sauntered over and claimed his prize. What luck!
 
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Angelique Chimere
Professor
location here
mood here
outfit here
interactions

interactions come here

Angelique appreciated when the student she had asked for assistance with a task did said task and showed up. Though she chuckled and looked amused.”A good answer it is a bit too much word for word from a textbook but it shows you’ve read up on them which is a good start.”she said, giving a light nod of approval to Aurelia’s answer. She noticed movement in the air and kept an eye on what appeared to be a student. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose, some watching the student land and trying to hurriedly find a seat before being spotted? She wasn’t quite sure if the student wanted her attention or didn’t either way she would remember their face for later. Now back to the task at hand letting the students see the baby dragon while it was in a good mood. She set the baby down letting in wonder across the space in front of each student (how it reacts is up to each student Angel will be watching). Her gaze watching as it continued along.”Now who can tell me about any other type of dragon doesn’t have to be just this breed. You never know when or where you’ll encounter a dragon, especially nowadays with smugglers, poachers, and all sorts of things that cause dragons to not be where they normally inhabit.”she said looking around at the faces.


β€œYou three tell me what you know about dragons? Come on now you are 6th and 7th years. You should know something, otherwise you’ve had very disappointing professors.”she said, waiting for answers from them. Her gaze sweeping Aurelia, Vasu, and Altair as they were the three students she had called on for this specific question. Her wand raised and with a flick a student was suddenly ridged before being levitated into the air and brought down to where Professor Angelique stood.”I told you anything funny and you’d be out of my class now begone.”she said as the student was roughly dropped onto the ground before running off back into the school. Her wand flicked again as a large silvery thestral stood before trotting off towards the school; anyone who knew magic would know it was a patronus. It was taking a message to the headmaster as Angelique was busy with class she watched it go before returning her gaze to the students and the baby dragon who was still moving along stopping and chuffing at people every now and then. She listened as things settled down and the three she had called on finally seemed to have gotten use of their mouths back. It didn’t surprise her that Aurelia had answered swiftly then the two males had followed suit with them each saying at least one fact about a type of dragon. She wondered if this class could handle what more she had in store for them. Maybe she should truly start with the basics about dragons. It wouldn’t hurt plus dragons were a possibility of coming up in the tournament.
coded by natasha.
 
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Vasu Saini // β€œthe Snake Charmer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​
Sweat shining on her dark face, Aurelia Quansah scurried into class ten minutes late. Ooh, this will be interesting, Vasu thought, leaning forward in his seat, eager to witness the young professor with an iron fist turn her wrath on an international champion who wasn’t him. Instead of performing a walk of shame, head bowed, along the amphitheater aisles in search of an empty seat, Aurelia strode straight up to the professor. It was only then that Vasu noticed the burlap sack she was carrying, tied off with a blue ribbon. A crest that he recognized as Beauxbatons’s three overlapping wands caught the morning sun, flaring a fiery orange. A flicker of an expression passed over the tattooed professor’s face. Vasu supposed that it was meant to be a smile, but it looked more like a question mark on her lips, as if it were unsure how it got there. She accepted the package without pausing her lecture, and Aurelia, visibly glowing with pride, ascended the steps of the amphitheater, her braids swinging jauntily.
Vasu deflated, like an enthusiastic spectator at a hanging in which the prisoner had been pardoned at the last minute. He’d been promised blood and hadn’t gotten it. As if her desire to kiss up to authority was inexhaustible, Aurelia looked up from the seat that she’d just taken and provided an extensive answer to the professor’s question. Hmph. And the award for designated teacher’s pet on day one goes to…, Vasu thought, huffing a sigh as he thumped back in his seat, arms crossed at the ridiculousness of it all. Clearly hunting for a criticism, the raven-haired professor commented that Aurelia’s answer resembled that of a textbook, but she looked pleased nonetheless.
What do I give a damn about the Hebridean Black and the Welsh Green when they’re all the way in Europe? Vasu grumbled internally. Where are the Chinese dragons, or even the North American ones? If all she plans to cover is European beasts, she should’ve stayed the hell there. But his intellectual self-righteousness would have to wait. As if this woman’s mission in life was to give half the class a heart attack so she’d have that fewer papers to grade, she had let Baby Black loose on the class.
Chuffing at the ground and thwacking schoolbags to the ground with its wagging, barbed tail, the diminutive dragon explored its new victims in a new environment. It clawed its way up the steps of the amphitheater, its little legs trembling with effort and occasionally flapping its wings to get a boost. Students alternatively cooed at it or froze when it scuttled in their direction. At one point, it hiccupedβ€”or perhaps the ghastly noise was a sneezeβ€”issuing a gout of fire that ignited the hem of one boy’s robes. He started to panic, furiously trying to stamp it out without his shoe catching fire too, when the young professor flicked her wand. Water spouted at the student in an arc, drenching him from head to toe and extinguishing the fire. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, like a garment a lover had left behind. When it reached the back row, toddling on its chubby legs, Vasu drew himself inward so that he was sitting cross-legged on his seat and avoided eye contact, minimizing the dragon’s target as best he could. He tried to ignore the rush of distress he felt at its nearness. Please don’t incinerate my bag, please don’t incinerate my bag, it’s the only one I have and it would cost my current life savings to buy a new one.
Comforting himself with the thought that he wouldn’t be in such debt once he renovated the abandoned music room into his underground gambling ring, Vasu took deep breaths and tried to refocus on the discussion. Holy mother of hell, that thing smelled putrid: like spoiled shrimp curry and the gym socks of a lesser god. His nose twitched, and he tried to discreetly tuck the lower half of his face into his palm. Squelching in his soaked shoes, the boy who had been the victim of the professor’s makeshift firehose slung his bag over his shoulder and raced down the aisle, presumably leaving to exchange his new wetsuit for dry robes. The timing was damnable, because just then something passed over the sun, shadowing Vasu’s face for half a second. He looked up, expecting to see a bird, or worse, a new dragon that the professor had summoned through some malevolent ritual. But the shape he saw looked distinctly human, and it was standing on something that looked like an oddly squarish surfboard that took to the air instead of the water.
A minute later, an impish-looking boy with copper skin and a halo of dark curls was hastening up the steps of the amphitheater. Seeing the only vacant seat was dripping with a mysterious odorless liquid, his face wrinkled briefly, and then he piled his robes carefully under himself before sitting in the space in front of Vasu. While the professor’s attention was diverted to the other side of the classroom, Vasu leaned forward. β€œNice timing,” he breathed at the newcomer, who spun in his seat. β€œThat’s not piss you’re sitting in, don’t worry. You just missed a very fiery-turned-suddenly-watery spectacle. This professor is fucking batshit, I swear.”
Of course, as if she had bionic hearing, the batshit professor in question swiveled in Vasu’s direction. Seeing the shift in Vasu’s gaze, the boy in front of him snapped forward. Fortunately, he’d been half-listening to the conversation, so he at least knew the question he was supposed to answer if she chose to pop-call on him like last time. Predictably, she inquired as to whether Vasu felt comfortable sharing his comment with the class. β€œJust catching our new friend up on all the exciting developments he’s missed,” Vasu said in a voice as sweet as the fruit of a papaya tree. He felt a cold, condescending smile take up residence on his face. Beneath the table, his hands curled into slow, strong fists, as if imagining each finger wrapped around this insufferable woman’s neck.
The Beauxbatons professor nodded sagely, but she wasn’t done with Vasu yet. Kicking off her question with a jab at his former professors, he sat back in his chair, equal parts taken aback and amused. His gaze immediately found Vinogradov, who was shifting uncomfortably at the front of the class. Vasu looked for any telltale signs of a crimson flush. Who the hell does this professor think she is? he thought, almost unable to believe his ears. But he sensed an opportunity in her question, and his grin broadened into something demonic and deranged. Oh, Vasu would never pass up a chance to stick it to one of his least favorite professors.
He cleared his throat and chose his words carefully, projecting for the class to hear. β€œWhile I’m flattered to be in a class comprising mostly sixth- and seventh-years, I’m actually a fifth-year, ma’am,” he prefaced strategically, sparing himself the blame of answering incorrectly. β€œTo answer your question, I distinctly recall our Transfigurations professor at Koldovstoretz telling us last semester that dragons are inherently evil creatures. The very first dragons originated from the souls of the damned in many mythologies, humans who committed sinful acts that the gods transfigured into horrific beasts as penance for their crimes,” he lied, resisting the urge to watch the Wine Man for a reaction. Not only would the ludicrousness of the claim embarrass Vinogradov for allegedly making it, but it was sure to set him on a bad footing with a colleague who was a dragon sympathizer.
 


  • Gavriel Sylvie
    Ilvermorny - Female - Half-Blood - Champion


    A flurry of colors rippled through the long locks and wide eyes of young Gavriel as she watched the book in Professor Einar’s hands spring to life with historic moments flooding the room. The once familiar stone walls were now covered by whatever illusion had been cast so as to appear that the classroom had truly been thrown into a totally different time and place. If this were how History of Magic were most of the time the young woman had a strong sense she might enjoy it far more. Being immersed in the moments that highlighted cultures and made legends was a far different experience than simply reading about them in musty old books.

    She had always found immersion to be one of the best teaching tools for herself. Ever since beginning school at Ilvermorny the young metamorphmagus had taken to creating her own immersive studying experiences. It wasn’t uncommon during days before an exam to find Gavy, or at least a person people came to realize was Gavy, tucked up in the library adorned in the face and figure of whoever the young witch was currently reading about. It may seem silly to others but for some reason, she has always felt she remembered details about the witch or wizard she was studying if she were to learn about them through their own eyes…in a manner of speaking. This display that Professor Einar was putting on now almost felt like something similar to her own immersive act. It was truly fascinating to watch the battles being fought while on broomstick as the witches and wizards soared overhead. Her gaze was a tye-dye display of light blues, bright yellows, and enchanting purples with her hair matching as colors spread through the locks.

    Glancing over at the young man who had collided with Kiara she couldn’t help but wonder if he was used to this sort of act by his professor or not. Was this some special display to impress the students from the other schools? Given the look on the young man's face she assumed that perhaps it wasn’t, that maybe Professor Einar did performances like this back at Durmstrang as well. Either way, it was a far better way to start the notoriously boring class than what she was used to. Professor Krill normally just stuck to monotone lectures and popcorn reading which not many students seemed to be a fan of.

    Hearing Professor Einar’s request for the students to share what moment of magical history they favored most Gavriel blinked and felt her mind stutter for a moment as she mentally tripped over herself trying to pull up anything she once might have learned. Blinking again the young metamorphmagus stayed quiet and peered around the room to see if someone else would answer the professor. This was the first time in a long time she actually wished she had more of a knack for this subject but unfortunately, under Professor Krill’s instruction the course was often only rivaled by watching paint dry so she had a strong tendency to tune the man out and fiddle with her quill instead.



    Mentions: OPEN FOR INTERACTION



    TEMPLATE Β© BOKEH
 
MOOD: Happy > nervous > apologetic

OUTFIT: skirt, dress shirt, converse, robe, tie

LOCATION: CoMC
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INTERACTIONS: Vasu, Ramona

MENTIONS: Angelique, Kaz
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TAGS:
Aviator Aviator irregular-neptune irregular-neptune
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TL;DR: Reacts poorly to Vasu's antics and tries to sneakily pass a note to Ramona.
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mey
Mey frowned, considering Vasu's disapproval of Ramona. Could they really have nefarious plans to use Mey's friendship against her? She supposed it truly was possible. Eren was always telling her how stupid and gullible she was to trust others, and her success in Koldovstoretz came largely with a necessary defensive wall. Teenagers were cruel. Was it possible that Ramona was one in the same? They had seemed so kind and thoughtful in the kitchen last night. She did her best to shrug it off, shaking her head slightly and continuing with her ramblings.

Vasu was such a good listener, allowing her to speak so much. She beamed as he grabbed her hand firmly, taking his charge as a sign of the spirit of adventure, though that notion disappeared from her mind as she was swung around and nearly tripped into him. She sat still as he combed her hair, though her interest piqued when it didn't end with the simple brush. As his fingers wove her hair into a simple plait, she couldn't help but wonder where he learned. His fingertips felt cool on her skin as they grazed her neck, sending a brief shiver down her spine. She fished a hair tie out of her bag at his request, admiring his handiwork when he was done. "Vasu, you are such a talented braider! It is beautiful, I am thankful." She grinned at him. Her smile softened as he brushed off her compliment with an explanation of a difficult homelife that lead to his great skill. She had heard the rumors about Vasu coming from a working family, but chose not to believe them if they weren't proven to be founded. Despite the flippant delivery, she couldn't help but feel trusted at the revelation.

With her hair brushed, she took a moment to try to straighten out the crumpled edges of her appearance. It really must've been obvious that she had just rolled out of bed if her snared hair had really bothered Vasu enough to stop her. She pulled at the pleats of her skirt, attempting to smooth any stray crease or fold, and pressed her hands down the front of her shirt. While her head was down, someone slammed into her, causing her to loose her footing. "Oof!" She teetered forwards, unceremoniously crashing into Vasu's chest. A bit taller than her, her face found his chest. Firmer than she expected, and surprisingly pleasant. He heaved her up by her shoulders, and she bowed her head in shame. "Sorries! Many sorries!" She apologized, before he lead her away to the class. Whoever had bumped into her did not apologize to her. Perhaps Vasu was right, maybe the foreigners were pompous and selfish.

Once they had scrambled into class and met up with Ramona, Mey's excitement for the day had returned. There was no way Ramona was like the rest of the Americans. She was cool, and look at how kindly she spoke to both her and Vasu! They didn't even know Vasu to owe him any kindness. They waved the duo onto the bench, and as she moved to sit, Vasu took the spot closest to Ramona. Shocked, she slid to sit on Vasu's other side. She narrowed her eyes at him slightly, though chose to say nothing.

Class was never Mey's forte. She had a difficult time focusing, and translating languages all day in her brain was exhausting. She usually checked out and used the time to focus on more important things. But this was an important tournament! It was her duty to support Vasu. If she could absorb at least some of this information, she might actually be some help to Vasu. She might be able to repay some of the kindness she had been shown all these years. But first, she needed to get something out of the way and absolve herself of some guilt that was tugging at her heart. She fetched a pen and notebook from her backpack and begin scribbling.

Ramona,

It started plain and simple, though, with Vasu's earlier disapproval of Ramona, she felt defensive enough to attempt to cover her scribbles from his sight. She used her arm to protectively shield her note from him as best he could.

I'm sorry for missing breakfast ): I slept too much and did not wake up on time.

She found English to be much easier to write than to speak.

Make it up to you at dinner? (:
β™‘ Mey

She had begun to fold up her note, as neatly and carefully as she could, when a large commotion summoned her attention. "Woah," She breathed, her eyes meeting the brilliant purple of a magnificent beast. A dragon. A real-life dragon. She had never seen one before, and now, it was so thrilling to see. Chills ran down her spine, and her heart pounded with excitement. This was quite possibly the most excited she had ever been. She couldn't help but grin. She relaxed a little, momentarily forgetting the foreboding feeling she typically associated with class. This wasn't like class, it was a creature exhibition. It was like a much less cruel circus, with creatures far more dangerous than lions or tigers that ringmasters seemed to need to tame. It was nothing like the stuffy classes she was used to, the ones she always struggled in. Then, in an instant, the subject pivoted, and Mey felt the cold dread that she had been so familiar with, and she slouched back in her seat. This professor was intense, and she couldn't help but predict that she was bound to be a failure in a Ilvermorny Care of Magical Creatures class too.

As the professor began to scan the class for victims to call upon, Mey shrunk further. She intentionally avoided eye-contact, turning her face slightly away, and finding anything else to carefully occupy her attention that wouldn't make it too obvious that she was loathing a potential call out. She picked Vasu's beautiful braid into her fingertips, using the tail to absent-mindedly tickle her face. She tensed, feeling the woman's steely gray eyes hone in on her. It was certain death. Then she called Vasu's name and her head snapped forward in surprise. She hadn't even noticed him whispering to the new boy in front of them. She was sure that she'd be the one called upon to be made a fool of. She slouched further next to him, almost as if the association to him would contaminate her with the professor's disdain.

"I distinctly recall our Transfigurations professor at Koldovstoretz telling us last semester that dragons are inherently evil creatures. The very first dragons originated from the souls of the damned in many mythologies, humans who committed sinful acts that the gods transfigured into horrific beasts as penance for their crimes."

"Vasu!" She hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. When he cringed slightly at the contact, she felt a touch of remorse, but she had reacted at the shock of his words. She had been in the other 5th year Transfigurations course, so she couldn't exactly refute his claims but they seemed so wrong. Vinogradov had always seemed like a kind, tolerant man, and she couldn't believe Vasu's claims. Dragons were a hot-button topic around the wizarding world, and she was sure that this raven-haired professor wouldn't take too kindly to the presence of someone who disagreed with her. Vasu offered her a sharp glare, which she returned, and swiftly turned her head away. She felt a hot blush creep into her cheeks. Her reaction had now earned her attention from the professor and she likely embarrassed Vasu at the same time. Her shoulders raised up towards her ears, nervous of any backlash from the professor. Evidently, her hiss had been quiet enough to escape the professor's punishment.

She sat rigidly, faced away, as Vasu remained the center of attention, counting the seconds until the moment had passed. When the woman finally released him from her snare, she turned back to him slightly. "ΠΈΠ·Π²ΠΈΠ½ΠΈ," She mumbled an apology in Russian, avoiding eye-contact and playing with the bottom button of her shirt. She tossed one leg over the other, as if she could hide herself more. She shouldn't have acted so hastily, though her embarrassment made it difficult for her to look him in the eye. When he looked away, she stole a glance at him. He was pretty, no doubt. He was eating beauty on toast like the foreigners were, she was sure of it. His upturned nose and dimpled smile had been the source of a teeny tiny crush that she might've obsessed over slightly a couple years ago. Though, he had been dethroned by the beautiful Black Court quidditch captain, Lev Kamkin, who has been a recurring crush when her crushes on others between him didn't work out. Though, her previous crush on Vasu had left her with a little bit of a soft spot for him. She had much more guilt about being rude to him than she would've to Vesna Gustov.

She picked at the skin on her thumb, tuning out the class instruction. Her eyes began to wander, and she found her note to Ramona, still folded on top her notebook. Ramona! She finished the note with one more fold, and, straightened her posture a bit. She leaned forward, pressing her upper body to the table. She quietly, carefully dug her wand out of her bag, and whispered an incantation to begin to float the note. She held her wand steady and concentrated, trying to move the note through the air and into Ramona's hands without drawing the professors' attention to herself.
well, you cured my January blues
Yeah, you made it alright
I've got a feelin' I've lit the very fuse
That you were tryin' not to light
code by valen t.
 

​

20+ Selected Haircuts for Guys With Round Faces

Sigurd Berg​

History of Magic Class​

"Compose yourself, Sigurd."​
Despite his major blunder, Sigurd's downtrodden mood began to wane in the eyes of reason and logic. This was no time to be melancholic, especially with an entire class ahead of him. He recalled a memory from years ago, when his father had just begun mentoring him. One of the first lessons imparted on him was learning to problem-solve in the heat of the moment. After a tough day of training filled with many mistakes, Sigurd and his father sat around a campfire in the snow-clad wilderness to reflect, as they did after ever session. Despite the frozen atmosphere and the pitch black night sky, the young Sigurd always felt comfortable wrapped in a blanket by his father's side. Sigurd, your face bears the marks of one with much on his mind. You must learn to pivot and realign in the face of your troubles. Internally organize and shelve each one, lest you enter battle with a clouded mind. The older Berg pointed his index finger up and spun his hand around horizontally. If you swim in your frustration, you will surely drown. To punctuate his sentence, he turned his hand into a fist.

Heeding those words, Sigurd took an analytical approach and broke down his concerns into columns, tackling each one. First and foremost, he was late to an important class. Professor Einar has never taught with a heavy hand. He is a professor, not a punisher. Everything that has happened thus far in his class has slid off him like water on a duck's back, including punctuality. Besides, I am not the only one who is running late. His mind then moved to the girl he had the misfortune of running into and subsequently injuring. A formal apology after class will begin the healing process. Hopefully, she is as eager to move past this whole mess as I am. The exercise did wonders for Sigurd. The miasma clouding his mood gave way to steely focus once more. He still had his mission, and he needed to prove that Professor Einar made the right choice in vouching for him. And that began with paying attention and participating in class. So with a deep breath, Sigurd withdrew his textbook, a notepad and opened up his ears to listen to the professor.

Despite already knowing Professor Einar and frequently seeing him at Durmstrang, Sigurd still found himself staring whenever he stood to his full height. Compared to Sigurd's five feet and eight inches, Professor Einar must have almost a foot over him. His impressive altitude served to command the attention of the class. And in the past, intimidate his enemies in his past career as a prolific auror. At the same time, Sigurd wondered why he would give up that life to teach. There was still prestige in passing on knowledge to the next generation, but at the cost of turning your back on your destiny? Sigurd's internal contemplation ceased as soon as Professor Einar got into position in front of the class and began his lesson. The boy whole-heartedly agreed with the importance of learning history. Observing the past was the key to a bright future. Father was aware of this as well, adamant in his usage of history books and autobiographies to begin his son's craving for knowledge. There were no fairy tale or works of fiction allowed in the Berg household. Sigurd was lulled to sleep with talks of legendary figures and events of the wizarding world. A book the size of his textbook was not an unfamiliar sight at the age of twelve. The History of Magic book laying before him was chock full of factoid after factoid about the world around him, and he grew stronger with each fact collected and stored in his mind. Hopefully, strong enough to write the story of Sigurd Berg, victor of the Octowizard Tournament and redeemer of his family's name.

When the professor's book opened up, it set off quite the light show, mystifying some of the students. Despite the impressive prism of colors presented, Sigurd easily wrestled his attention out of amazement and focused on the historic events unfolding around him. This was no time to dilly-dally. To his left, he saw a snippet of the first official Quidditch World Cup Finals, to his right, a wizard raised a vial with a golden liquid into air in celebration. Drops of the liquid bounced out of the container like fish popping out of water before the wizard drank the liquid. Sigurd quickly recognized the wizard as Zygmunt Budge, creator of the Felix Felicis potion. He had an excited look in his eyes and jet black hair that flowed all over, from the umber locks on his head, to his black and bushy goatee. His visage reminded him of his father, which is why it was easy to recognize him in Professor Einar's presentation. Writing utensil in hand, he noted every event that he saw. Perhaps they would appear in a future assessment. After unleashing that particular spectacle upon the class, Professor Einar presented a question to the class: what was a historic moment they were fond of? Almost immediately, Sigurd's choice came to mind. He raised his hand and as soon as Professor Einar gave him the go ahead to speak, Sigurd stood up and did just so.

"My choice would go to the duel between Emeric the Evil and Egbert the Egregious during the Middle Ages," Sigurd began. "Emeric was a dark wizard who wielded the Elder Wand, an exceptionally powerful wand said to have been created by Death itself. However, it wasn't enough to protect him, as Egbert managed to defeat him in a duel and take control of the wand for himself. Their battle was legendary, which is why we read about it still to this day, especially in my Dark Arts class."

Sigurd mentioned his Dark Arts class casually, as if every school had one available to take. "Emeric had great mastery over the Dark Arts, along with the Elder Wand, but he still suffered a brutal loss. It was the first time in recorded history that the Elder Wand was claimed as the result of a duel, which attests to Egbert's dueling skills. Even if he did lose possession of the Elder Wand himself in due time. All other transfers of power were conducted in more underhanded ways."

Sigurd left it at that, not wanting to creep out his classmates with tales of slit throats and men being locked in cellars to starve to death. With nothing more to say, he returned to his seat.
 
Last edited:
THEODORE WEST
HOGWARTS CHAMPION
Annoyed
Ilvermorny - The Grand Hall
Aurelia Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 Darweshi TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Cha-Cha Aviator Aviator
Click Me
The faintest hint of a cheeky grin pulled at the edge of Theo’s upper lip as he stifled a chuckle at the ebony eyed apple thief. There was a fire in her that he hadn’t been expecting. He was used to people shying away from his abrasive demeanor, in fact, he usually preferred it that way. However, this girl had responded to his cold front with an equally chilling bite. It was refreshing to say the least, and he made a mental note to put aggravating her further in the coming days on his to-do list.

Enjoy. Her voice came like honeyed glass, the edges sharp enough to cut but the taste sweet enough to justify it.

β€œThanks, love. I will.” He purred back, all too satisfied with himself as he offered her a fleeting wink before picking up his tray and heading towards one of the tables to eat what he could before class.

Theo had only just started to devour the pancakes on his plate when he began to notice the diminishing number of students in the mess hall. His eyes flicked lazily towards the clock just above the doorway, which read 5 minutes to the hour, and he let out a disgruntled huff. Once again, he scanned the room for Chitrita. The memory of her pretty face contorted in fear at the sight of Vasu’s pet replayed on a loop in his head, nearly making him cringe every time. She had offered so little explanation before departing last night, and it was causing an unwelcome knot to tie itself up in his stomach.

He momentarily mulled over his options as the thinnest hand on the clock continued ticking, signifying the passing of precious seconds that would determine whether or not he was timely for his first day of classes. Deciding he didn’t want to deal with the inevitable reprehension that would come with a tardy arrival, he scooped up his tray, ready to toss out his half eaten β€˜canadian bacon’ when a deep voice bellowed from behind him.

You there! I see you are enjoying a late breakfast! If you wish to avoid a tardy mark, come with us!

Theo turned slowly to address an unfamiliar face. His age clearly betrayed that he was not a student, though if he was a professor, Theo didn’t recognize him from yesterday’s festivities. His accent indicated that he was not from here… perhaps a foreign professor who had made a habit of being late himself. His gaze flicked from the dark skinned professor to the platinum haired girl behind him, her bleach white locks a pale contrast to her ebony skin. Another pretty face, but not the one Theo was looking for.

β€œThank you, Professor. But I have some matters to attend to before class. Please, excuse me.” He inclined his head softly, unusually polite for the notorious Hogwarts bad boy, but he had no intentions of making unnecessary enemies this early on in the tournament. He merely hoped the professor would accept his vague excuse without prying further.

Discarding his tray in a tidy pile above the nearest trash can, Theo made a bee line out of the mess hall, searching the halls for Chitrita’s familiar ebony hair or a splash of her signature pink garments. Theo was meant to be in Care of Magical Creatures in a few short minutes, but tending to drooling beasts was the last thing on his mind. If he was not mistaken, Chitrita was scheduled for Einar’s History of Magic seminar, if he was quick perhaps he could catch her before class.

Zigging and zagging down unfamiliar halls, Theo just barely avoided smashing into a few other students who were practically sprinting to avoid a tardy mark on their records. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes towards the back of his head at their blatant eagerness to please. But even as he neared the hallway where the History of Magic classroom resided, he saw no sign of Chitrita. He muttered a silent curse. He must’ve missed her. She was probably already in class… and he was across campus from his own.

His shoulders sunk and his head rolled towards the ceiling as he debated the possible repercussions of just skipping his first class. From what he had gathered, Professor Chimere was a bit of a hardass. Any attempt to slip into her class unnoticed would likely result in her drawing boatloads of unwanted attention his way. He’d rather miss the class and take the blow to his marks. Turning on his heel, Theo was about to start meandering his way back towards his dorm when he saw a slim, gangly figure with a bit of a gimp and a god-awful fedora headed his way.

β€œArif…” Theo’s voice was not the least bit friendly as he addressed the confessed murderer turned professor, his gaze cold and narrow. He didn’t seem in half as bad of shape as he had been last night, but he was still a pitiful sight to behold. That didn’t stop Theo from stacking mental brick upon mental brick until there was a hundred foot wall of black adamant preventing any unwelcome advances on his mind. He always bristled whenever there was a legilimens present, the torture his elder brother had inflicted upon him in his younger years had taught Theo to expect the worst from that particular breed of parasite. β€œHow’s the ankle?” He folded his arms over his chest, paying careful attention to the way the professor shifted his weight from foot to foot with every step.
coded by natasha.
 
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