Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

[honeycoves]

Mey Sari

@

meymeymey

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  00:04

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  looking out

  
  
  
  

  joy again

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:09

  
  

  :

  reminder:

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  you should talk less.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:08

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  how

  embarrassing

  was that?

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
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  mood

  
  

  embarrassed > shy

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  Hallway

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Aurelia Sanctuaryforall1

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

Kiss me and shut me up.

Ramona looked at Mey with something that Mey did not like. It was a gaze that Mey found fixed on herself frequently at Koldovstoretz. It wasn't quite contempt and tasted extremely similar to pity. She felt her palms begin to sweat. She could hear the voices of the kids before Ramona, letting her know that they didn't have the time or energy to be her friend, that she was too weird and being caught in class talking to her would be social suicide, and the outright insults telling her she was an unwanted dog who needed to beat it. She wanted to lower her gaze and look away, but couldn't allow herself to. Her brown eyes remained fixed on Ramona. "You know, Mey..." They trailed off, biting their lip tentatively. She had done it, she had really done it with the outburst in class. Why was she so stupid? She knew better than to pass notes in class. She'd be lucky to avoid detention, if she could continue to avoid Vinogradov and Chimere for the rest of the day. Ramona looked at her again. "It's been really nice getting to know you, but," They sighed. That patronizing look made Mey practically squirm in her socks. "I think I should get going."

Mey forced herself to smile, pulling the strap of her bag further up her shoulder. "Oh, yes! Of course!" She the two stood awkwardly for a moment. "Maybe I will be seeing you about?" She bit her lip, silently thanking her past self for not having the idiocy to write their names together in pen like she so eagerly would have.

Ramona shrugged slightly, but offered a small smile. "Yeah, I'll see you around." They turned and left.

As soon as their back was turned, red, hot blood rushed to Mey's face again. This time, embarrassment outweighed any anger she might have felt, and all in all this morning had been extremely draining. Her cheeks and ears burned hot, and her throat and eyes stung with the threat of tears. She gripped the strap to her bag tightly, wishing that her feet would find somewhere to go, but they didn't move. Instead, she stood rigidly right where Ramona left her. She didn't have anywhere to go. Vasu ran off before she could really even blink, and Ramona had really been the only person she'd spoken too since arriving. Getting sick at the opening dance and waking up late had greatly harmed her chances at making other friends. She supposed she could go back to her room, but then do what? The only books she'd packed were for school, and her other hobbies weren't necessarily so acceptable. Maybe she could find asylum in the kitchens, like she had last night. Just, this time, alone.

A coughing sound startled her, prompting her to abandon her hasty kitchen plans to turn and face her assailant. She half expected a professor, coming to tell her she was in big trouble, but found relief in the face of another student. She plastered on the best smile she could. "Oh! Sorries! I am in your way?" She asked, carefully stepping aside to clear the way for the girl. She recognized her from class, with her beautiful clothing that draped handsomely from one of her shoulders. She was called on by the psycho professor, though she was struggling to recall a name. She should've paid better attention. Had she watched her whole interaction with Ramona? She skirted the new girl's gaze, but her astonishment was doubled when she introduced herself.

"Y-yes! I am Mey. It is very nice to meet you, Aurelia." She smiled again, bowing her head slightly in greeting. There was a heartbeat of awkward silence, which Aurelia filled, much to Mey's pleasure. Silence was a rare commodity around the young girl, normally because she was the one filling it. But now, she found herself at a loss for words. Ramona was a cat who had taken her tongue with her. "Flying?" Her face lit up with joy at the idea, excited for Aurelia who had mentioned it. An obstacle course sounded like fun. She never really got to fly outside of quidditch practice.

She suddenly withdrew for a moment, feeling very hesitant. She wasn't sure if Aurelia was really bragging or inviting her. She hoped for the latter. Don't fall for it, Mey. She's the enemy. Of course she wants you to trust her. Vasu's harsh, but apparently true words, echoed in her mind. Aurelia might not be American, but she was sure the same principle applied. But flying! She wanted to fly so bad.

"I love flying!" She beamed, throwing caution into the wind. "I have an old broom, but I am not very used to it. At Koldovstoretz, we fly on full trees! It is mostly when we play quidditch, of course. But trees are sort of different from brooms. It is different to turn and control them. My tree is a fig tree, so it is not too different. I play seeker! So, my tree is fast. I would have liked to play beater, but I am not so good with the bats. My first try out, I missed so hard I got hit in the face and fell off of the tree! I—" She suddenly shut her mouth, blushing slightly. This sort of nonsense is what scared Ramona off. She took a moment, allowing the air between the girls to settle. "Um, yes, I fly." She paused again, clasping her hands in front of her. "Aurelia? Would it be possible of me joining you?" She asked shyly, shifting her weight awkwardly. Maybe Aurelia could be her friend, if Mey could keep her mouth a little bit more shut.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Pyroclast]

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

The crust of the bread made a gorgeous crackle as Auguste bit into it - the bread was warm as if it had come straight out of the oven, though it wouldn’t have surprised him if it had been out for some time and had just had a charm placed on it. Still, for his first taste of bread not made in a French kitchen or boulangerie, it didn’t fall too far beneath his standards. It soon whet his appetite, and he was just considering what to eat next when he got distracted by the clink of something small and metal landing at his feet. Auguste looked down from his seat at what appeared to be a fish hook.

A student soon dipped into view to pick it up, and Auguste’s eyes followed him as he walked over to the bin to dispose of the fish hook. The boy wore his hair shaved close to his head and kept his face otherwise clean-shaven, too. His apology revealed a European accent, but not being very well-travelled, Auguste struggled to put his finger on what it was. What it did suggest, however, was that he could be another of the international students who had come for the tournament - well, that and the fact he was one of the few people in the hall besides himself that was not wearing the Ilvermorny uniform. “C’est pas grave,” he said through a mouthful of bread. His tired eyes hung on the shaved-headed boy for a moment before he shrugged and added, “But, uh…maybe you want to work on your aim if you are participating in the tournament?”

Then, suddenly, something kicked off. Before Auguste could even register what had happened, somebody slammed into his table and a pitcher of water tipped onto his lap. The sensation might have shocked him were he not so sleep deprived, but as it happened his reflexes were compromised and so he just sat there, arms out at his side, soaking up all the unpleasantness. He couldn’t ignore the incident unfolding around him for long, though. A fight appeared to be breaking out a short distance away, but his immediate attention was on the girl who had fallen into the table, causing the pitcher to topple in the first place. Auguste rose up from the bench to offer the poor girl a hand as she stumbled to her feet. She began to apologise to him profusely and search the table for something. The books and papers she had been carrying were spoiled by the water spillage, and the sleeves of her once-cream-coloured pullover were now stained crimson.

“Stop,” he gently urged her, touching her arm and willing her to look into his eyes so that she might slow down for a moment. “Okay? And take a breath.” Once he had her attention, he looked around until he spotted an empty seat on the table behind them. “Viens…sit with me.” He guided her towards the bench and sat her down before kneeling beside her. During her fall she seemed to have skinned her elbows, and he tentatively reached to roll her bloodied sleeves up out of the way, allowing her the time to pull away if she wasn’t comfortable. “You are hurt,” he noted, and after examining her wounds for a few seconds he looked up at her. Her eyes shone with humiliation, so he smiled up at her in an attempt to allay her distress. “Listen, I fall down all the time,” he admitted. It wasn’t exactly a lie - the number of times he had had seizures that had caused him to collapse from standing height or to fall out of a chair were too many to count at this point. “Books, replaceable. Fuck the books. Ton pull…” He brushed his fingertips against the sleeve of her soft cream jumper. “Pretty, but you can replace.”

Having mostly tuned out the fight that was going on behind him so that he could focus on the injured girl, his attention was grabbed when a student bellowed out the reducio spell and laughter began to echo through the hall as a boy began to squeal and squirm and grab himself about the crotch. Auguste raised an eyebrow, quite unaware of what it was all about, but couldn’t help a small grin from tugging at the corners of his lips. When he turned back to face the wounded girl, he still wore a look of amusement. “You have a good friend over there,” he said to her of the student who had cast the spell. “Did he push you, that boy with the, uh…problem?”

Suddenly he heard a familiar French accent speak his name and he turned around, quickly standing up when he saw who it was. “Kiara!” A wave of relief and desperation came over him and he stood there awkwardly, not sure how to greet her. The two were acquainted but not close, and yet, he had never been so relieved to see somebody he knew. She was surprised to see him and asked what he was doing at Ilvermorny. “I -” His mouth hung open, and the anxiety began to pulsate in his chest once again. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” His gaze swung from Kiara back to the wounded girl. Focusing on helping her had pulled him away from his own problems and for just one minute he had felt calm. Finding Kiara had propelled him back into reality, where the air was thicker and harder to breathe. “My name got into la Coupe de feu, I don’t know how,” he tried to explain, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “And Raphael was named as our champion, no? But now they tell me it’s me, and they put me on a plane and now I’m here.” His shoulders froze in a shrug position as the absurdity of the situation caught up to him once again. Not being too close to Kiara, however, he didn’t want to let on how nervous he was, so he did best to come across annoyed instead. “Nobody has explained to me what the hell is going on. I haven’t even prepared - I don’t know how to prepare for this. And what happened to Raphael?”

Interactions
TobiornotTobi Sigurd
WanderLust. Lyssa, Kiara

 

[Aviator]

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

“What does it matter?” Cha-Cha asked a little combatively. Detecting the edge in his voice, the Frenchman froze, looking up from the desk drawers he’d been sifting through. His gaze found Cha-Cha’s through the open doorway. “Is it not worth your time and effort if it’s a secondary in need rather than your champion? Or a Mudblood?” Cha-Cha felt the liquor sizzling inside him, mingling with a long-held anger until they were indistinguishable. “Guess I’ll take the problem up with the healers in the infirmary if some of your students are more dispensable than others. Sorry to impose.” Bellamy’s face resembled the clouds when they muffle the moon at night, cold and unreadable. He didn’t rise to the goading, and because they were on a time-sensitive mission, Cha-Cha let it drop. His gaze flicked around Bellamy’s sparsely decorated office, which, other than a bookcase with an alphabetized, intimidating row of tomes and a coffee cup on the desk, was devoid of any homey touches. Which was reasonable, considering he’d only had the office for less than a day.
He sighed at the news that Bellamy didn’t have any dittany, disappointed but not surprised. Bellamy approached Cha-Cha with a handkerchief, which Cha-Cha gratefully accepted, careful not to touch Bellamy during the pass. “I should— what?” Cha-Cha echoed incredulously, pausing in the act of scrubbing his hands to look up at Bellamy. His face broke into a broad smile, and he began to laugh. Something about the emphasis of Bellamy’s concern had piqued his interest. He hadn’t told Cha-Cha to wipe his hands before he dirted more of his office beyond the door. Not because of the breach of basic sanitation. Or even given him a handkerchief because it was the polite thing to do when a visitor came knocking on one’s door with bloody hands. No, Bellamy had cared about his student’s DNA getting everywhere. It was how a criminal would think. How Cha-Cha would think.
Still chuckling, he tilted his head and reappraised Faron Bellamy. The name had been on the tip of his tongue when he’d first seen it written on the plaque, and now he knew why. “Wait a second. You’re that other famous Auror guy, right?” Among the team of international professors, Einar would always be the original famous Auror guy, and Bellamy’s face darkened at the insinuation that he was a mimic. “Not like any Auror I’ve ever met. They don’t train you guys to consider DNA in your investigations. Magical crimes need to be solved through magical means, you know? Otherwise it’s far too easy to frame someone when you mix magic and biological components. Or so your overprivileged posse thinks. What, did you snore through How to Catch Dark Wizards 101, Bellamy?” From the look of alarm that flared on Bellamy’s face, you would have guessed that the Hogwarts professor had swallowed a bee. “Relax, Golden Boy, I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Cha-Cha said, his amusement slowly fading. “You’re not like any Auror I’ve ever met because you’re better than ‘em all, amirite?” He tucked the soiled handkerchief away in a pocket for later, proper disposal, careful to avoid the pocket in which Chitrita’s locket rested.
Deciding that they’d best get a move-on with the quest for dittany, Cha-Cha told himself that belitting his new, dislikable colleague would have to wait. He turned away from Bellamy and scanned the hallway for the office of the Potions professor that he now knew was part of the international delegation. Looking around too fast made him dizzy, and he took a half-step to steady himself. He remembered having passed it earlier, and leading Bellamy, he backtracked the way he had come until he found himself at the door that read Prof. Azura Ito. Cha-Cha examined the door and the locking mechanism for a heartbeat, and then he was taking off his fedora and reaching inside. He withdrew several thin, shiny rods of metal, all bent at different angles. He met Bellamy’s bewildered gaze. “What, don’t you keep your handy-dandy set of lockpicks up your sleeve too?” After breaking into Bellini’s rooms with Lis last night, Cha-Cha had decided that carrying some tools a little more sophisticated than a credit card might prove useful. He hadn’t planned to do any breaking and entering at the start of the evening, after all. Just like how he hadn’t been planning it this morning when he woke up in the infirmary.
Lockpicks in hand, he knelt down beside the keyhole. Trying to force his way in with magic was too risky, especially if it set off an alarm like a lot of the rooms at Castelobruxo would if subjected to a spell. Some of them had even nastier surprises in store for would-be intruders. It was how Cha-Cha had learned that the smell of billywig urine lingered for many days and washes after. A squeak of shoes and a shadow falling over him from behind prickled the hair on the back of his neck. He looked up from his work. “Do you mind?” he asked irritably, head whipping around to glare at Bellamy, who was standing a little too close for comfort. For all Cha-Cha knew, this was the rat who had ordered him poisoned. “I work slower when I’m hovered over,” he bit out. Bellamy took a step back and, reluctantly satisfied, Cha-Cha turned back to the lock, placing his ear close to it so he could hear the inner clickings of the tumblers.
A lock is like a woman, said the locksmith to whom Cha-Cha had been apprenticed for two months in Bandung, before the lure of the streets had called to him. You have to seduce her into giving up her secrets. Cha-Cha’s fingers were a little clumsy, and it took an extra minute of heart-hammering suspense whether they would be caught. Finally, the lock yielded with a heavy, metallic shift. The door drifted inward to reveal an office that looked as if it had been inhabited for months. Unlike Bellamy’s office, potted plants dotted the interior, squeezing together atop shelves. The chair behind the desk was upholstered brown leather with elegantly carved wooden arms. A scented candle made the room smell like a basket of roses. One of the walls was made up entirely of glass, giving a view of a dramatic drop-off down the mountainside. Two of the others held an assortment of labeled vials of various shapes with contents of various colors. Cha-Cha’s gaze snagged on the last wall, which comprised a well-stocked minibar with crystal decanters.
Remembering the job, he tugged off one of his shoes. Bellamy looked suddenly comfortable keeping his distance, rooted to the spot in a way that suggested, You first to Cha-Cha. Looking back at the office, Cha-Cha lobbed the heeled boot into the center of the floor. When it didn’t catch fire, explode, or elicit the appearance of any sharp weapons or ominous-looking clouds, Cha-Cha decided that the room was safe enough and entered. The thick carpet gave underfoot, muting his footsteps. When he didn’t catch fire, explode, or elicit anything nasty, Bellamy ventured into the room. He immediately crossed to the industrious-looking shelves of potion ingredients.
Cha-Cha was leaning over the minibar to check the vintage on the scotch when a flicker of movement made him jump. Something red and furry poked its head up from a cushion on the floor. An amber-eyed fox was staring at him, ears pricked. “Hey, buddy,” Cha-Cha said brightly; the fox was quite cute. He squatted down and extended a hand toward it, which the animal ignored. “Can you keep a secret?”
A triumphant sound from the corner of the room indicated that Bellamy had found the dittany. Cha-Cha turned away from the fox and recovered his fallen shoe. “Good job, Bell Ringer! I knew you could do it. Now let’s go find your student, eh? He’s a little ways off the grounds, but he’s in tall grass, so he’s unlikely to be seen from a distance.”
Cha-Cha took the stairs down at a brisk clip, shifting anxiously from foot to foot at its base when Bellamy took considerably longer to descend with his cane. We’ll never make it in time with Grandma hobbling along, Cha-Cha thought. The floor of the main entryway was slick with wet footprints, and he soon saw why. Cha-Cha opened the doors to reveal a rainstorm that would rival his homeland’s monsoon season. Fog swirled and spun like an ocean of damned souls. The rain pelted sideways in long, unbroken lines. A copse of saplings bent under the hammering force of the wind. And Theodore was out there, weathering the storm and bleeding out and lying broken on the sodden ground. “Oh, fuck,” Cha-Cha groaned. Already drenched from the torrent that had poured inside the open doorway, he swiveled to Bellamy. “Can you run, Bellamy? Move at a pace faster than doddering to the grave? Because I think time is of the essence for your student.”
And so, with neither of them having had a broomstick available or the foresight to take one in advance, they ventured out into the rain. Cha-Cha lowered the brim of his fedora to keep the rain out of his eyes, but within seconds he was shivering and his teeth were chattering as he gave directions to where he’d left Theodore. The rain made visibility scarce, and with a film of fuzzy disorientation draped over the world, Cha-Cha had to double back twice and correct course. Finally, after what felt like a short eternity and a freezing hell later, Cha-Cha doubled over and panted. “He’s just up ahead. You know how to use the dittany, right? I’ll leave you to it, then.” He hurried a few steps in another direction. Bellamy’s voice was inaudible over the sound of his pulse in his ears. Cha-Cha fell to his knees as he vomited in the long, wet grass. It was quick but brutal, and when he finished, he was left with a splintering headache, a too-dry mouth, and a quiet vow to never drink a Bloody Mary ever again.
His clothes were so saturated by this point that he barely felt the rainwater sluicing off him. Finding his balance, he got to his feet and shuffled over to where he could see the outline of Bellamy’s hunched form. The grass tangled around his legs, and he had to pick up his feet like a dressage pony to avoid tripping. He knelt next to Bellamy and looked at Theodore, who lay very still and pale, but his arm was whole. Dark blood was crusted around where the wounds had been, but the nasty gashes were gone. His eyes were closed, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. “We have to get him inside,” Cha-Cha said with a decisive nod. His voice was a shredded rasp. “He’ll get hypothermia if we leave him out here much longer. If anyone asks, he smoked too much and greened out, got it?”
Minus a few delirious murmurings, Theodore was largely unconscious when Bellamy and Cha-Cha hoisted him up from the ground, each hooking a shoulder under his own. The champion was taller and broader than either of them, which made transportation awkward, and Theodore had a habit of lolling in Cha-Cha’s direction and threatening to take him to the ground. Fortunately, by the time they made it to the castle gates, the rain had washed away the blood on Theodore’s exposed arm, and his shirt was so wet that the liquids melded together. Cha-Cha’s shoulder was burning from the constant weight in a way that he knew it would be terribly sore when he woke up tomorrow.
“You don’t happen to know where the student dormitories are, do you? Not like we can really drop him off at the infirmary without twenty questions,” he hissed out of the side of his mouth when they were under the castle awning, out of the rain and able to talk without shouting. Past Theodore’s slumped head, Bellamy shot a vitriolic look at Cha-Cha, as if wondering whether he had to do everything. He repeated this for each of the three flights of stairs that they had to ascend, their shoes squelching with cringe-inducing volume on the linoleum floor. Away from the humid, warm air, Cha-Cha was set to shivering again.
They were almost up the last flight of stairs when Theodore stirred. Cha-Cha breathed a sigh of relief that was not shared with his colleague, against whom Theodore had flailed and almost knocked backwards down the stairs. “Hey, kiddo,” Cha-Cha said softly. “Your arm’s all healed. Bellamy here patched you up.” While I was spilling up two liters’ worth of hard liquor in the rain, he didn’t add. “We’re gonna take you back to your dorm. In fact, we’re almost there now. Is that okay?” Theodore groaned in a way that was unintelligible, so Cha-Cha decided to take it as agreement. He bit his lip on an apology, knowing that the only appropriate time to give one would be when Theodore was fully conscious and looking him in the eye. “Can you get your key out?” Cha-Cha asked instead. “Or tell us where you have it?”
As it turned out, the door was unlocked when they arrived. Or perhaps it was spelled to unlock automatically in the presence of one of its inhabitants. The room was equipped with three beds and desks, and blessedly none of them were occupied. Bellamy and Cha-Cha were unsure which of the beds was Theodore’s, and they were unable to get a coherent answer out of him. So they slung him onto the bottom bunk, which was the only one they would realistically be able to maneuver him into anyway. Cha-Cha went to the minifridge and retrieved a water bottle. After a little coaxing, he and Bellamy were able to get the Hogwarts boy to sip it. They left Theodore with an instruction to change into dry clothes, trusting that he was conscious enough now to manage on his own. This was the very first priority on Cha-Cha’s to-do list, too, and he beat a hasty retreat out of the dorm, Bellamy on his heels.
They almost ran headfirst into Chitrita Pawar, whose mini backpack was dangling from one shoulder. She was with a boy, average height and thin, with bronze skin and elfish features, but Cha-Cha scarcely paid him attention. The trauma of waking up to Chitrita’s smug face looming over him in the infirmary was too fresh. For a moment, no one said anything. Cha-Cha was keenly aware of the odd picture that two soaking-wet professors emerging from a student’s dorm made. Finally, Chitrita’s companion piped up with the obvious question. “One of your competitors was hitting a cartridge and got lost in the rain when Bellamy and I were taking cover from the storm. We had to escort him back to the castle that was almost right in front of him,” he lied automatically, regretting that he hadn’t had the time or means to relay the cover story to Theodore. “Presently he’s still out of it and doesn’t have a good grasp on where he is, but he’ll come around. I figured it best we didn’t involve anyone unnecessary.”
Another awkward silence followed. Cha-Cha was sure that Chitrita would have had a lot more to say to him if not for the audience present. “Well, if that’s all, then…” he said by way of farewell and started to leave, moving past Chitrita and her companion. He turned suddenly. “Oh, Chitrita?” Cha-Cha rested a hand on her shoulder, the same one that the backpack was hanging from. A pause, and then he smiled. “Give Aadesh my regards. You have a very loving brother.” Whatever Chitrita had done to him to disable his Legilimency, it had worked. Cha-Cha wasn’t sure how long the effects would last. Days, weeks. Forever, even. But Chitrita didn’t have to know that. The best strategy to forestall an attack was to convince her that her ploy had failed, and Chahaya Arif was just as dangerous an enemy as ever. And if that involved snatching a personal item—say, a locket—learning what personal information he could from it, planting it back in her handbag, and passing his secret knowledge off as Legilimency, then so be it. His business complete, Cha-Cha turned and sauntered away.

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Darweshi Nyache​

Darweshi's Room​

"This is quite a bummer I have on my hands."​

---

There were very few things Darweshi could say he disliked in life. Cloudy days with no sunshine. Spiders, with their hairy bodies and multiple legs. But chief of all things that could topple Darweshi's indomitable high spirits, was anger. The Uagadou professor abhorred raising his temper, even if it was completely justified. Fiery words shouted out in anger were immediately doused with regret as soon as he released them. Whenever he got upset, he could feel negativity filling his body like acidic bile, leaving pain and mixed feelings in its wake. Not to mention all the wrinkles that develop on one's face when it is scrunched up with emotion. And at this point in his life, nobody made Darweshi angrier than Vergil Kalema. The fiend was an agent of the Ugandan Ministry of Magic, but he might as well been a monkey on his back instead of an Auror. He had spent the past few months wearing out his welcome, appearing to harass Darweshi with inquiries and updates on his case. And the man performed his job with no respect at all, letting himself into his home and private office as he pleased, sometimes simply to let the Potions professor know that he was being watched. Once, he was returning from his favorite grotto that he frequently used for morning prayer when Joto's sprinting form met him outside. A strange man was in the living room with Anima and sent Joto out to find his father. And worse yet, as Darweshi learned upon sprinting home, was that his intruder was munching on the freshly cooked chocolate biscuits his wife had just made. The possibility of time in Azkaban without his family was the only reason Darweshi hadn't retaliated for intermingling his business with the ministry with his family. That, and the biscuits.

Despite the absence of Darweshi's usual warmth, the man projected enough energy for the both of them. His face, free of wrinkles or blemishes, flashed a perfect smile of ivory teeth. It was a smile of amusement, amusement at Darweshi's soured mood. Especially since he was the direct cause of it, and he knew of the effect he had on the professor. Vergil swept his hand out and gestured to the table where Darweshi had unpacked his cookie tin. "Why don't you have a seat, Darweshi?" He asked in an oil slick voice. In turn, Darweshi crossed his arms, his body language voicing his disapproval at being told what to do. "I'd rather stand," He replied sternly. After a few seconds, however, his resolution fell flat in the face of exhaustion. All that travelling around Ilvermorny had tuckered him out. So with great reluctance, and a dirty look towards Vergil, Darweshi trudged to the table and had a seat. Vergil walked over and took the seat across from him. Before speaking once more, he stretched his arms and steepled his fingers on the table. "How has your trip been so far?" The questioning began. "Did you enjoy the opening ceremony? How about the various foods Ilvermorny has to offer? They do not call America a boiling pot for nothing!"

At the question regarding the opening ceremony he failed to attend and the food that has eluded him all day, Darweshi sucked his teeth and looked away from Vergil. "It was fine. I am here to support my students in their endeavors, so I dedicated my focus to them."

Vergil nodded along, as if he was the instructor and Darweshi had given a sufficient answer. "Well said..." He started, before pointing a finger straight at Darweshi. "...for a man who did not even attend the ceremony in the first place!" At Vergil's triumphant declaration, Darweshi's anger was joined by surprise. And in rapid succession, realization. The true identity of that troublesome Turaco had just been revealed. Darweshi tilted his head to look past Vergil and noticed that not only that his bathroom door was open, but the window was as well. Cursing his upset stomach, Darweshi mulled over his finding. In all his time knowing Vergil, Darweshi had no idea that his pursuer was an Animagus. And just like a bird, Vergil began to squawk once more. "You think I wouldn't know about your failure to show up, Darweshi?! I watched them haul you into Ilvermorny on a stretcher! Some dedication, hm?"

Darweshi was momentarily left without a counter to Vergil's revelation. Half and quarter sentences began in his mind, but were shot down in the hopes he could say something better. Just as he began to utter something to break the silence, Vergil put a hand up. "As much as I would enjoy hearing how you got yourself into that situation, that is not why I came here. I am certain that Uagadou's chosen students will do well, with or without you. And by the way, Malaika Odion was chosen by the Goblet of Fire." The barb had no time to be registered before Darweshi's frown weakened its hold on him. The life of the party, his student was always in the presence of her friends, which felt like was the entirety of the 6th year class. The outgoing and can-do attitude that she maintained when helping others were going to serve her well in the competition. Especially with a student like Aurelia to help smoothen out her weaknesses.

Like an unwanted wake-up call in the middle of a dream, Vergil's annoyingly smooth voice beat at Darweshi's eardrums. The smile used like a weapon to mock Darweshi was sheathed, replaced with a more serious expression. "The reason I am here is with regards to your case with the Ugandan Ministry of Magic." Darweshi's countenance darkened to match his intruder's. The word case loomed over his head like an anvil ready to drop. His actions were altruistic in nature, but the way the authorities on magic in Africa spoke on it, one would imagine Darweshi was the most putrid of criminals. But the true criminals were those who saw the suffering occurring around them everyday, and refused to levy assistance. In what was called 'a series of egregious, irresponsible and inexcusable lasps of judgement', Darweshi had set out with a myriad of potions in tow to heal those who could not heal themselves, just as his father did for their Maasai tribe. There were so many in Kenya and Uganda plagued with disease, who the world turned a blind eye to. Darweshi crossed his arms and huffed. "If this is about my case, then you have no reason to be here, harassing me in my room. The hearing was set for when the tournament was concluded."

Vergil leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "Yes, that was to be. Until changes were made in light of your previous actions. Because of your reputation as a repeat offender," Vergil took his time enunciating the last phrase. "We thought it best to keep a set of eyes on you at all times. Especially during the biggest tournament of Wizarding schools in a while. And with your penchant for disregard and disrespecting the law, the choice was simple! After all, you are a criminal, Darweshi." Vergil stated matter-of-factly, Darweshi glaring in response. Vergil knew he hated being called a criminal. In his eyes, he was doing nothing wrong. "And an unrepentant one at that!" He added before rising to his feet and straightened out his trenchcoat. "So, consider this as your official warning for this trip. If you are up to any kind of law breaking during this tournament, I have full authorization to arrest you in front of everyone and return you to Uganda, where your judgement will be expedited. Are we clear?"

There was silence for a beat. Unlike all the other warnings, this was an ultimatum that the Kenyan could not ignore. He would have to bend to their command, or get shipped out. Eventually, Darweshi stood up as well, eyes on Vergil. A thin smile, like the one Vasu gave him when they first met, crept onto his face. "Crystal." And just like that, Vergil was back to smiling again with his pearly Jacksons. "Good Darweshi. I'll be taking my leave now, seeing as you have a meeting to prepare for. And we both know how much you love those! See you around, my friend!" It was at this point that Vergil underwent his transformation into his animal form. His body shifted and shrunk, facial features becoming more and more birdlike by the moment. His trench coat became a sea of green feathers that quickly grew into place. In mere seconds, a familiar green bird with red eyes chirped before taking flight in the room, making a couple of small circles as he ascended, then flew into the bathroom and out the window. Darweshi followed Vergil to the bathroom and closed the window behind him, then let off a volley of curse words in Swahili. Soon after, quick hand fished into his robes for his prayer beads as an apology was offered to Engai for using their name in vain. With a heavy sigh, Darweshi shuffled past the table and to the door, too upset to even take a cookie along with him. Dejected, the professor began his journey to Room 220.

 

[honeycoves]

Piper Katzenbach

@

piper_katzzz

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  02:01

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  dark red

  
  
  
  

  steve lacy

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:18

  
  

  :

  reminder:

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  no sleeping potions.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:15

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  ouch.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Lost

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  Dining hall

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Einar Sanctuaryforall1 , mentions Sigurd

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

But I'm really just a kid.

The world was coming to him in flashes. Piper could recall, just for a moment, the room exploding into noise and conversation before suddenly falling back into muteness. Even with his eyes closed, darkness pulsated at varying pitches, all in time with the pounding in his head. The sound of the damn, thundering footsteps would not leave his mind. Wait... No. This pounding was much more rhythmic than before. Consistent. Lining up almost entirely with his heartbeat. The pounding was his head. He found himself wishing he could just crawl back under the covers and go to sleep, like he was nursing the worlds worst migraine. Despite the loud thumping of his brain against his skull, he found his body threatening to slip into unconsciousness. He was only half sure he'd never lost it in the first place, but the sweet call of a nap beckoned him in the blackness.

Muzzy light bleared, and it occurred to him his eyes were open. He squinted, attempting to see through the gleam. Was it morning? He moved to sit up, like he would in his bed to get ready for the day. Instead, the world began to come into view, and it lurched around him. "Ugghhh," He groaned, his stomach flipping. It was so, so bright, and he felt so dizzy. While the room rolled back and forth like a ship, he took notice that he was on the cafeteria floor. How did he get here? He reached to the back of his mind. The last thing he could recall was sitting in the infirmary with Naomi. Or, sort-of Naomi. That interaction would be difficult to forget. And then he stood up and things went black. He could vaguely recall what he could only really liken to a dream, but not ever stepping foot into the cafeteria. He squeezed his eyes shut, hugging his stomach as it threatened to empty itself. God his head hurt.

Something touched him, prompting him to turn. "Professor?" Piper could hardly hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears. Einar's was lost in the void, the only communication he was receiving from the older man was the concern in his icy gaze and the vague idea that Einar was speaking because his lips were moving. He blinked, his mind eerily vacant. Einar's gaze looked expectant. Had he asked him a question? "Um..." He tilted forward, using his hands to push himself to his feet, managing to stand with only a slight stumble as the world skewed to his left. He began reaching for his hearing aids, searching to turn them up. It only helped him hear over the ringing marginally. His brows scrunched together as he noticed a dribble of crimson on the floor. Blood? He absentmindedly touched the back of his head, his hand coming away wet and warm. His blood. He couldn't remember hitting his head.

Two women swarmed him, each taking an arm and guiding him to a bench, they began taking turns talking to him and asking him questions as Einar trailed. He did his best to answer them.

Where are we?
Illvermorny, in the dining hall.

What school do you go to?
Durmstrang.

What's your last name, hon?
Katzenbach. K-A-T-Z-E-N-B-A-C-H.

At this point, one of them turned to Einar and began asking about Piper's responses at the time he found him and came to. The other passed Piper some paperwork, urging him to read it aloud and fill it out himself. He stumbled through it with the best of his ability, before she was asking him questions again.

What month is it?
August.

What is today's date?
The 28th, I think.

What time is it?
11:00?

He was asked to remember a handful of words that he was supposed to repeat back to the best of his ability. He was asked to repeat numbers back to her, but order them backwards from what she read, and recall the months of the year in reverse order. Then, he was asked to stand and balance in various positions for her evaluation. He squeezed her fingers, and she shined a light in his eyes. He felt like a dog being asked to do tricks he already knew, but they were going very slowly. They sealed the wound in his head with a simple use of the Episkey charm, and allowed him to sit back down.

Can you remember that list of words from earlier? Tell them to me, in any order. As many as you can.
Anchor, honey, dollar. That was all he could remember.

She let out a sigh and turned to Einar. "He has a minor concussion. It could take a few weeks for him to heal. During this time, he'll likely have headaches, dizziness, light sensitivity, nausea, vomiting, ringing in his ears, fatigue, and difficulty concentrating. He'll have to limit his exercise, school, and work to a level that doesn't worsen his symptoms. He'll need to rest for the next 24 to 48 hours. If you notice any change in his behavior, you know where to find us." She then looked at Piper, and he did his best to focus on what she was saying. "No drinking alcohol, no healing potions, no pain medications or potions, no sleeping potions. Do not fly until you're cleared. Come visit us in the hospital wing in two weeks." He nodded, rubbing his palms on his thighs. The nurses left.

He smiled sheepishly at Einar, doing his best to swallow the nausea that was harassing him, but didn't really know what to say. 'Sorry I blacked out and hit my head' didn't seem quite right. "What happened?" He asked softly, his voice sounding tinny and distant to his own ears. When asked if he remembered reciting a prophecy, he shook his head, though it was instantly regretted. He world started spinning again. He tried to find a fixed object to look at, but the floor tiles insisted on slowly rotating, leaving him to feel like he was dirty laundry in a washing machine. He blinked hard, trying to make his surroundings gain more permanence. Everything was so muffled. Not that he had the greatest hearing to begin with, but even with his hearing aids turned up he felt like the dining hall was surprisingly hushed. He took inventory of the people around him.

Just Einar was there now. The nurses had gone. They had all materialized because he hit his head. He was Einar's charge, which made sense why he would stay. The other people were students. Piper didn't know practically any of them. Just Cosmo and Clara, who might've been amongst the sea of faces. He glanced at some of them. Being around so many strangers made him feel lost. Or maybe that was the concussion. He frowned, feeling very confused.

"Er det Sigurd?" He asked in Norwegian, slowly rising to his feet. The ground felt like it was trying to rip itself out from under his feet, but something more concerning was requiring what little concentration he had. He looked to Einar, feeling panic and concern begin to rise within him. "Hva gjør han her? Hva skjer?" A bad feeling was beginning to settle in his stomach, and he felt sicker than ever. Where were Cosmo and Clara? Sigurd being here had to be a bad sign, an awful one. Like a horrible omen, if his concussion wasn't one enough.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[honeycoves]

Chitrita Pawar

@

luvchtrta

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• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  00:42

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  liability

  
  
  
  

  lorde

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:01

  
  

  :

  tournament

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  you've been promoted to champion

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  10:59

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  guilt

  is eating you alive.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Surprised > cheeky > sad

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  her dorm > Theo's dorm

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Altair TobiornotTobi Ito Sanctuaryforall1 Cha-Cha Aviator Theo WanderLust.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

i'm a good girl. promise.

Altair's ramblings about Odinson made Chitrita's heart drop. He was speaking as if Odinson was hurt in a harmless game. She frowned. Was the word at Mahoutokoro that Odinson was hurt, not killed? How would they explain his continued absence? Did his aunt know? She had a sinking feeling that Altair didn't know what he'd signed up for. If he was the cavalry, meant to keep her safe, how was he going to deliver on that promise when he didn't know what he was up against? Granted, she was this secret looming threat. But he would have no idea if it weren't her.

As he asked her about her roommate and assessed her room, she gently pressed her forehead against the short edge of the door. "হে আল্লাহ আমাকে শক্তি দাও," She mumbled to herself, before answering and closing the door. "I don't know, I went to bed early last night. Didn't get to meet her." She lied effortlessly, beginning to turn around and close the door when something peculiar caught her eye. She scrunched her brows. Something gigantic was in his pocket, and growing. "Uhm... Altair..." She pointed at his pocket, which looked sure to rip at any moment. She opened her mouth to say something, just in time to witness his pants exploding at the seams and dropping to the floor. She did her best to politely turn away, but not before she caught sight of his bright orange underwear. Orange seemed to be his signature color. It suited him.

She brought a hand up to her eyes to hide them from view, in a poor attempt to give the pants-less boy some privacy. Someone, however, didn't have the decency to provide him with any. Her head snapped to the side as her door swung open, and she leaned out of the way to prevent it from slamming into her. In came Ito, wand blazing, repairing Altair's pants and chastising him for losing them in the first place. Then, the professor fixed both students in her gaze, laying down the law of the land. Chitrita did her best to not look as indignant as she felt. "Understood?" Altair started babbling again, like a cartoon protagonist— an annoying habit she would have to grow used to— and began asking if Chitrita would be taking his classes or if he'd be taking hers.

"We're taking my courses," She asserted, glancing at him. There was no way she was going to dumb herself down to make this guy comfortable. She was champion, she couldn't risk rotting her brain by taking easy courses. She crossed her arms over her chest, challenging Ito with a gaze that matched the older woman's intensity. "And what plans are in place, in case someone tries to kill me like Locjaw?" She asked, with as cool of a tone she could muster. She snuck a glance at Altair, trying to gauge his reaction to her words. "And what about our rooming situation? I hardly think my roommates would appreciate Altair's constant presence, or his mine. What if I'm attacked in the night? And is he meant to follow me into the restroom? What if I'm attacked waiting outside the restroom for him?" She knew she was being pedantic, but she did her best to disguise her frustration with Ito as concern. She stood, in a quiet standoff with Ito as she silently demanded that her 'concerns' be met. She didn't dare break eye contact with Ito, but Altair looked at her, and her heart caught in her chest as she thought about Odinson. "Actually, I'd prefer it if we discussed this another time. It's been a long morning." Her voice came out more strained than she wanted it to. She turned her gaze away from Ito, a clear signal she would not engage any further.

Chitrita moved and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Come on, Layla. If we're going to be taking classes together, we should go to the library. Catch you up to speed." She looked at Ito expectantly, waiting for the older woman to walk out and allow the two students exit. She halfway bowed as a farewell to Ito as she excused herself, and began leading Altair down the stairs. The pair traveled in silence for a few steps. She turned to him, offering a soft smile. "So, is orange your favorite color?" She asked cheekily. When he reacted incredulously, she giggled. Maybe a friend, or a back up, at this moment wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. As they continued their decent, something caught her eye— a young man, nearly unconscious, being supported by two professors who struggled to aid him up the stairs. She stopped in her tracks. What the hell was happening around here? Maybe there was more malicious danger than herself. She grabbed Altair's arm. "Altair? I forgot my arithmancy textbook. Go on ahead, I'll meet you at the library, okay?" She did her best to smile, and turned on her heel to race back up the stairs. She brushed passed a gaggle of girls, before she reached the top and made a hard turn to follow Cha-Cha and Bellamy down the hall. She glared over her shoulder when Altair materialized behind her, having abandoned the plan to meet her at the library.

"Shhhh!" She shushed him, waving her hand in front of him, pausing outside of Theo's door. She waited for Cha-Cha and Bellamy to leave, though she made no move to speak. Instead, she offered Cha-Cha a sharp glare. What had he done? She wouldn't ever ask, she could surmise that Cha-Cha's involvement was a bad sign, but Altair couldn't contain himself, piping up himself. She resisted the urge to glare at him, her dark eyes remaining trained on Cha-Cha, but said nothing once the professor answered. Altair didn't speak either, lending to quite the awkward pause. She sidestepped, to allow the men out, and looked at Altair expectantly, waiting for him to lead the way in. She moved to enter the dorm room, but was instead harshly manhandled by Cha-Cha.

His cold hand sapped the warmth from her body, practically making her skin crawl. Her first instinct was to lean away. Instead, she whipped around to face him, wishing to set him on fire as he touched her. "Give Aadesh my regards. You have a very loving brother." He left, and her stomach turned and her cheeks burned hot. That was the first time she'd heard anyone but herself say his name aloud in years. She watched Cha-Cha's retreating back, followed shortly by Bellamy. Her heart pounded. How would he know that name? Unless her potion hadn't worked. But... That didn't make sense. None of this made any sense. A soft groaning beckoned her attention, though she stay rooted for a moment. Maybe she could scratch an antidote from her to-do list.

She entered Theo's room tentatively, approaching the bed where a soaking wet Theodore West lay. "Theo?" She spoke softly, gently. If he was hurt the last thing he needed was Altair's brand of chaos. She glanced at her new companion. "Can you find him a towel, please?" She asked, before moving towards Theo. She curled her fingers under the trim of his gray sweater, gently lifting it off of him. He must've been cold. Or, he would become cold if he stayed in it too long. She dumped it on the floor, taking the towel scrounged up by Altair, and began gently drying Theo's hair.

Sadness pulled at her heart. Was this her fault too? She had a habit of hurting others, but this was becoming quite the extreme.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Aviator]

Vasu Saini // “Wannabe Lady-Killer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​

Vasu’s brow knit in skepticism at the idea that he and Naomi accompany the Uagadou professor to his dorm. Private chambers? Vasu had never seen the inside of a professor’s room at Koldovstoretz, but he seriously doubted that they were slumming it three to a room with a tiny shower stall like the students did. It felt like an awkward time to get the full tour now, when he had known Nyache for all of fifteen minutes. Vasu glanced at Naomi to gauge her reaction. When the unfocused look in her eyes didn’t change, he opened his mouth to object, but Nyache was already banging out of the door. It squealed on creaky hinges as it swung shut behind him and would have whacked Vasu on the forehead if he hadn’t thrown out a hand.
He scrambled after Nyache, surprised at the big man’s sudden burst of speed when he’d been laboring up the stairs. “Professor, I’m not certain it’s appro—” Nyache looked over his shoulder as Vasu’s words abruptly cut off. It had occurred to him that, surely, Nyache was not the only professor in need of lodgings. The Beauxbatons lady was too psycho for Vasu to pay her any more attention than he had to, but there had been some real bombshells at the Opening Ceremony last night. Like that Ilvermorny lady with the accent like honey-glazed pancakes, the long black hair and iridescent dress. Vasu wasn’t foolish enough to think that Nyache would introduce him, but… if the Uagadou man was going to show him the way to the professors’ floor, he wouldn’t stop Nyache. Vasu swallowed thickly. “Appropriate to eat dessert before we’ve had lunch,” he finished with an ingratiating smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything else edible, would you?”
They ascended several flights of stairs and turned onto an outdoor balcony that slung around the outside of the castle, gaps in the long metal slats giving way to a vertigo-inducing view. Vasu’s stomach dropped. Thin cracks ran along the floor of the balcony, and a horrible image of it crumbling away under their combined weight stole into his mind, leaving him light-headed and breathless and anxious to reach the end. He stopped for a moment to clutch the railing and steady himself and noticed for the first time that Naomi was not immediately behind him. Rather, she was struggling to pull open the heavy glass door that led onto the balcony. Vasu slunk back the way he’d come and popped it open for her easily. He took in her bloodless cheeks and shallow breaths. “Do you require assistance?” he asked stiffly, hoping the answer would be no. Thankfully, it was. “Okay, then. Try your best to keep up, else there may not be any cookies left when you join us,” he replied cheekily.
The hallway that the balcony connected to stank of smoke. The smoke of an untamed fire, not the tantalizing aroma of a barbecue, or the sweet poison of cigarettes. It was so overpowering that Vasu gagged a little and held his breath. He looked up to where vines of yellow tape cordoned off a room that was charred black and sagging on itself. “Did you leave the oven on?” he asked Nyache automatically, eyes wide as he took in the scene. The crime scene, to be precise. The Uagadou professor assured Vasu that it was not his room, with astonishingly little concern for whose room it actually was. Vasu gave the demolished room a wide berth as he walked past, playing hopscotch with the patches of soot on the carpet.
Babbling excitedly about confections, Nyache stopped several doors down and across the hall. Vasu went to exchange a bemused glance with Naomi, but she was not looking at him. Nyache fumbled with the door for a moment, and it opened to reveal a room so opulent and spacious that Vasu’s jaw dropped. Lush cream carpets, dining room chairs with intricate patterns carved into the wood, shiny leather sofas arranged artfully around a low glass table. But most surprising of all was the figure of a man standing at a window, his back to the tournament trio. A long gray trench coat enshrouded him, a garment that looked as though it had come from the set of a low-budget detective movie. Until he turned and they saw his face, the only patches of dark skin revealed were on his hands.
It was impossible to say who looked more gutted: the Uagadou professor, or his unexpected visitor. At the anonymous man’s insinuation, Vasu turned halfway away and smothered a giggle. Actually, he’s showing me where to find the hot women of Ilvermorny outside of class, he mentally corrected. Apparently the visitor was both unexpected and unwanted. The cords in Nyache’s neck stood out like sharp, hot blades as he shouted, and his chest shook with rage. Torn between amusement and awkwardness, Vasu inched a few steps away to give the two arguing men the illusion of privacy whilst still being close enough to hear everything they said. As if that small movement had made him remember the two students’ presence, Nyache swung toward them with a dismissal. Argh, do we have to? Vasu thought in response to the notion of meeting Nyache again. If cookies weren’t part of the deal, he wasn’t interested. Naomi hadn’t immediately backed away from the door, and the Uagadou professor practically slammed it in her face.
Oh well, Vasu thought, resigned to the fact that his bake sale was not happening today and profits for alcohol would not be raised. At least he could repurpose the time to something that was more productive training for the first challenge. A voice as thin and brittle as river ice made him look up. Naomi, still in her flimsy hospital gown, bade him farewell. For the first time that afternoon, the look in her eyes was perfectly clear, almost intense. Without waiting for him to respond, she strode down the hall, her bare feet soundless and paper dress flaring around her knees.
A foreign emotion caught Vasu between the ribs. Naomi’s closing remark had seemed almost cold, and as she flounced away from him, he was reminded of all those times over the summer when his mother had retreated down the long hallway to her bedroom at the end, which she now shared with no one. One time, Ekta had asked her if she wanted to join her dolls’ tea party, and Mum had testily replied, “I can’t” before disappearing into that bedroom. The door had closed behind her with a sharp snap, but before it did, Vasu had caught a glimpse of the curvy, bone-carved instrument in her hand. Mum referred to it as her “dream pipe.” It was one of the very few antiques they had left in the house after selling what they could for miniscule profits that had come and gone. Presently, that hole inside him wrenched open a little further. As he watched Naomi turn her back on him and abandon him, Vasu knew that he did not want to be alone.
“Naomi!” he cried out, and the note of desperation in his voice dismayed him. He hurried forward a few steps, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. She swung toward him, and fixed beneath her honeycomb gaze, the part of Vasu’s brain that converted thoughts to words melted away. He thought back to their past interactions, hunting for a relevant conversation starter, and blurted the first articulate thing that came to him. “Do you still like my hair?” It was what she had told him when she’d asked to draw him, after the conclusion of the International Quidditch Cup. Together they’d slipped into a striped tent to avoid the reporters scuttling around like cockroaches, where Naomi had unbuckled a satchel with a fancy-looking sketchbook inside.
Naomi stared at him mutely, her confusion plain. Vasu’s ears heated. Feeling humiliated, he wondered whether he was the only one who remembered her saying that, if the compliment was so superficial to her that she had forgotten it, because she felt no need to file it away and use it for future ego-stroking purposes like Vasu had. “Um, what I meant to say is…” What do you mean to say, you bumbling fool? His heart rattled inside his chest. He was suddenly aware of how very pretty Naomi was, with her wispy pale hair that fell to a tiny waist, the gentle curve of her eyes. They reminded him of fresh-smelt copper before the world eats it away in cruel patina chunks. Vasu cleared his throat and made a snap decision. Training could wait, at least a few hours. “Would you like to come to my dorm? My mum got me a model kit of a pirate ship as a going-away present, and apparently it powers up with some cool magical charms as more pieces are put together.” An avalanche of words came out, impossible to stop. “I also have a deck of tarot cards, if you’d like a reading. I can do fifty-two different spreads with them, but um… you’re not afraid of highly venomous snakes, are you?”
“No, why would she be afraid of something ridiculous like that?” a new voice drawled. Vasu jumped. He whirled, and standing in muddy, torn-clothed, dripping-wet disgrace was Cha-Cha, Castelobruxo professor. Professor of what? Vasu thought snidely, wondering what subject such a jackass could possibly be knowledgeable on. Cha-Cha continued, “Good thing you don’t have an actually fearsome pet, like a ten-foot teddy bear. Oh, just thinking about them gives me the chills.”
Vasu’s face felt hot and miserable, but he bared his teeth at the unwelcome newcomer. “I’ll make sure Einar isn’t around the next time you piss off my snake, you lucky bastard.”
Cha-Cha grinned in a way that suggested he was used to being called a bastard, and it was just a matter of the adjective that preceded the word that was sometimes a source of novelty. He swiveled to Naomi, his long, stringy hair swinging. “Can I give you a piece of advice, my love?” he asked sweetly. He leaned close and cupped a hand around his mouth, but his loud whisper made the gesture all for show. “When young Vasu talks about fifty-two different spreads, he’s not referring to a deck of cards. Don’t go to his room, because you can do so much better, girl.”
The discomfiture that Vasu felt from this twisting of his words was momentary, because just then he caught a whiff of Cha-Cha. And it was far from his usual intoxicating aroma of rosemary and incense and lovely, deadly things that lull you into the clutches of sleep and surrender. To put it mildly, he smelled like a pig that had smashed through a keg of ale before rolling around in the mud. Blood spattered his face like a macabre lacy mask. Vasu’s eyes narrowed, noticing that Cha-Cha was speaking a little more slowly than normal and swaying slightly. “Cha-Cha, did you lose a bar fight?” he asked bluntly.
“Only ever happened to me twice in m’life, and I promise you, those poor fucks paid for it dearly within the week. A friend told me that, to this day, the one guy still has a crippling fear of public restrooms.” He got visibly more excited as he elaborated. “No, Vasu. I don’t lose bar fights. I end them.”
As much as he disdained this sloppy degenerate masquerading as a scholar, Vasu begrudgingly tucked away that line for future use. Assuming that he would hopefully get to a bar in the near future. “Just how loaded are you, dude? And what are you doing here, anyway?”
Cha-Cha ignored the first question. Then he took a step closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “What am I doing here?” He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the hallway at large. “On the professors’ floor? Where the professors eat and sleep and store their belongings?” He stretched the words out like saltwater taffy, until Vasu felt the hot weight of the stupidity of his question. “Yeah. Yeeeeaaahh, kid. I’m trying to go to my room so that I can take a shower and change clothes, if you would be so kind as to get out of the way?” He smiled at Vasu indulgently, the same way that waiters smile at guests as they collect a five-percent tip. Feeling like the conversation was a duel he had lost, Vasu meekly stepped back until his shoulder blades pressed against the wall, creating a window of space between Naomi and himself. He said nothing, fearing that it would be used against him.
As Cha-Cha passed, he smiled at Naomi, but this time it appeared substantially more genuine. “A pleasure seeing you again, Naomi. I know you’ll be an asset to Beauxbatons in the tournament.” He did not have to say that he did not think the same thing about Vasu with Koldovstoretz. Vasu watched the evil incarnate retreat down the hall, leaving a trail of wet footprints in the carpet; he did not speak until it vanished into one of the rooms. “About those tarot cards and the model kit… I’m sure we can find a common room or lounge to do them in. We don’t have to go back to my dorm, if that makes you uncomfortable. If you want to hang out at all,” he added hurriedly, not wanting to be presumptuous.

 

[WanderLust.]

THEODORE WEST
HOGWARTS CHAMPION

Pain

Ilvermorny Dormitory

Chahaya Aviator Rita honeycoves

Click Me

Theo had apparated just short of a dozen times in his life, and though it had never been a particularly pleasant experience, he had never remembered it being quite so disorienting. One moment, he had been painted in a serene lakeside landscape, ominously dark clouds hanging above, threatening torrential rain if one were to so much as raise their voice too high. His hands had gripped tightly around Arif’s forearms in a rather uncomfortable, but unfortunately necessary embrace as the two males stared back at one another in a tense engagement, each too stubborn to break first.

He remembered noting how dark Arif’s eyes were, both the irises themselves and the accompanying bags beneath them, combined with a pallor to his skin that made him look distinctly unwell. The next thing Theo comprehended was an eerie feeling of incompleteness, as though his existence had been stretched too wide and too thin until he had all but disappeared, swallowed up by the slate colored sky.

Theo hit the ground with all the force that gravity could warrant, his body crumpling in on itself as the ground came up to meet him with crippling speed. He remembered feeling cold, freezing, actually, as if all the warmth had been sapped out of him and was still lost somewhere up amongst the clouds, failing to catch up with his body. And then the pain tore through him with all the violence and ferocity of a jungle cat shredding its prey to bits before devouring it whole. Theo let out a strangled, choking noise that would have been a scream had there been enough air in his lungs to support one, but as it was, the sound that Theo emitted came out as more of a pitiful groan.

His left arm, or rather, lack thereof, was on fire, and no matter how much air he tried to suck in he couldn’t quite catch his breath. He rolled onto his right side, his injured arm limp and useless as he let out another strangled howl of pain. He remembered thinking that this must’ve been the epitome of agony, this was the worst pain in the world and all he could do was sit there and feel it. Helpless and freezing, he was vaguely aware of Arif muttering unfinished apologies and assurances but he paid them little mind. God he just wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to stop and never resume.

He vaguely registered that Arif was touching him, fiddling with some bit of fabric around Theo’s shoulder but the touch felt far away and distant, as if he were simply watching it and not feeling it himself. And then, as if some blessed deity had answered his silent prayer, Theo was transported somewhere else entirely. The acrid smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils, and a foreign yet familiar sense of guilt wracked through his ribs with nauseating poignancy as he watched a girl with chocolate colored skin drop something into a cauldron only to be enveloped in a fiery uproar of smoke and flames. He watched on in mute terror as the flames licked at her flesh, his stomach churning as he looked down at his hands - only they weren’t his hands. No, these hands belonged to someone else, someone who was fiddling with abraxan hair and bat spleens rather than helping the burning girl mere yards away.

“Stop.” Theo choked out, willing the vision to dissipate, the scenic forest of pines coming back into focus as if an artist were painting it stroke by stroke with colors that bled into one another until it was all a mess of green and grey hues. Where was he? What was happening?

It took every bit of willpower Theo had to push Arif away with his uninjured arm, hissing in pain as he did so, every movement felt like he was tearing flesh from bone.

“I wish I knew how to help you. But I don’t. I’m going to get someone who can. Just… don’t move.”

Useless. How useless could this man be? This arrogant, drunken, unqualified, pitiful excuse for a professor - Theo wanted to scream but sound evaded him. He lay there in silent agony, his groans fading to whimpers as the cold began to seep deep into his bones. He felt a droplet on his cheek, followed by another, then another, until the steady droplets of rain began to soak through his clothes. He wasn’t sure how long Arif had been gone by the time the world started to devoid itself of color, he grappled to maintain consciousness for as long as he could but he was so cold… and as everything started to fade into oblivion Theo wrestled with the inescapable reality that he was likely going to die alone in the middle of the woods. He remembered wishing he had said the words “I love you” more frequently in his tragically short life.

When Theo’s eyes next fluttered open, he was upright and teetering slightly to the right. He groaned softly, shuffling his feet beneath himself only to realize they were barely touching the ground. His right arm was slung around Arif’s shoulders, and on his left, his miraculously whole left arm was draped over Faron Bellamy. His head spun, and for a moment his consciousness threatened to rescind itself once more as he leaned a majority of his weight onto Arif. The sudden shift caused both Professors to let out hissed protests, neither one able to bear the brunt of Theo’s burden on their own. And then he was falling, careening weightlessly through the air only to land softly on a cushioned surface, a bed. He blinked a few times, squinting despite the relatively dim light as he ascertained his surroundings.

He was back in his dorm. He was in the wrong bed, but it was his dorm room. His eyes flicked to his suitcase which lay open on one of the desks, the maroon colored suit jacket he had been wearing last night was draped over the back of the chair. He acknowledged Bellamy’s brief instructions to change into something dry and get some rest, nodding his head more so out of habit than of actual comprehension.

Once the two professors shut the door behind them, Theo allowed himself to look down at the damage to his left arm. The flesh was painted in angry shades of red and pink, but his arm was whole and void of any actively bleeding wounds. Stretching out the remarkably healed limb in front of him, he tested it for any signs of pain or weakness. He nearly recoiled from the pain that shot through him when he extended his arm above his head, but it was less so when he reached out in front of him and to the sides. Not pleasant by any means, but bearable, if only marginally.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the desk, his brown hair was matted to his forehead, whether from sweat or rain he couldn’t tell. The skin around his face was alarmingly pale and sinking in around his cheeks. His grey sweater, or what was left of it, was stained in varying shades of crimson, and he cringed at the task ahead of him that would require the mobilization of both his injured and uninjured arms to remove the garment. Then, the sound of the door opening once more caused his head to snap to attention, he nearly toppled over from the sudden movement.

He sat down abruptly, refusing to faint in front of witnesses, and was surprised to find the face of Chitrita Pawar standing in the doorway. “Theo?” her voice was melodic and familiar. He liked the way she said his name. She stared at him with a look that he could not quite decipher, but he estimated it fell somewhere between pity and concern. His upper lip curled at the thought of her pity, he didn’t want it or need it, and rather than greet her or her companion, he laid back on the bed with a resigned sigh.

Rita moved swiftly, sitting next to Theo on the bed, her tanned fingers pulled ever so gently at the hem of his sweater, lifting it upwards until she was able to pull it off completely over his head. He flinched with every movement, but bit back the pain in an effort to avoid appearing completely helpless. Theo looked up at her with a lazy smirk that took effort to form. “You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could’ve just asked.”

Thing 2 had evidently managed to scrounge up a towel from somewhere, and handed it to Rita, who began gently patting at Theo’s sopping wet hair. For just a moment, her fingers brushed against the skin of his forehead, and he was transported. He could see himself, a pale, sickly, frail looking version of himself laying shirtless on the bed. He was filled with that same feeling from before, an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame, just like he had felt with Arif. But it was foreign and far away, he knew these weren’t his own emotions, no… this was something much, much worse.

His right hand reached up to latch onto Rita’s wrist firmly, pushing her hand away gently before rolling onto his uninjured side. “I don’t need your pity.” His voice was low but steady, unwaveringly even, as though he were carefully ensuring he kept his own emotions in check.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Theo brushed past Chitrita’s sidekick without a word, his steps slow and clumsy. Bracing himself with his hands on the desk that held his suitcase, Theo fished through the clothes within, looking for a t-shirt or sweatshirt that he could slip on easily without assistance, but instead, his fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. Tilting his head to the side, his fingers latched around the small object, pulling it to the surface to reveal a golden pocket watch small enough to fit within the palm of Theo’s hand. He turned it over, revealing an engraved message etched into the metal. “With Love, C” He stared down at the trinket, confused as to how it had gotten into his bag and wondering if it might’ve accidentally been placed in his suitcase by one of his roommates.

coded by natasha.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Azura Ito

• 
  
  
  
  Professor Azura Ito
  Mahoutokoro - Female - Half-Blood - Professor
  
  
  
  As the trio parted ways Azura felt her jaw flex ever so slightly. She strode down the hall of the student's corridor with a confident yet feminine stride that came to her effortlessly. Her eyes were set on the path ahead when she felt a gentle tug behind her eyes and knew it was Davos trying to show her something. Instinctually she was well aware that her beloved fox wouldn’t disturb her without good reason and instantly her heart began to race at the idea that something was already happening. Was it what had killed Odinson? Was it Klaus? Her blood turned cold at the thought of the latter and without hesitation, she opened the door of her senses to Davos and as he blinked she saw the world come into focus through his eyes.
  
  “Hey, buddy,”
  
  Her brow furrowed as she took in the sight of Cha-Cha and Professor Bellamy in her office. Clearly, by the looks of Bellamy’s movements, they were looking for something though Davos had caught Cha-Cha by her selection of vintage scotch and she instantly felt relieved that she had kept her personal selection hidden away.
  
  “Can you keep a secret?” Cha-Cha’s voice was soft as he spoke to Davos, his hand stretched out though Davos made no move to accept the offered gesture. Azura continued to observe through the fox's amber eyes as a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips and she couldn’t help but be amused by the irony of Cha-Cha asking Davos to keep a secret when he had already raised the alarm. The young man's attention was swiftly ripped away from Davos as Bellamy held out a bottle she clearly recognized as dittany and Cha-Cha began to praise his fellow professor before mentioning a student.
  
  The moment the duo exited her office Azura blinked and was back in her own body, standing off to the side of the empty side hall where she had left herself leaning with casual elegance against the wall. “What are you up to?” She muttered to herself as her brow furrowed. Had another student been attacked? Dittany was used as a strong healing aid in potions but could be consumed or dripped onto an injury in an emergency to help stabilize and heal shallow wounds. The situation better have been dire for her colleagues to raid her supplies in such a fashion. Whoever needed the dittany, and she planned to find out who and for why, she hoped to recover swiftly. By Cha-Cha’s words, it was a student and Azura couldn’t help but find herself thinking of the young man who had been in the company of her former pupil earlier that day. Could it have been him, Theodore West, who was injured somewhere in the castle now?
  
  A gentle ticking pulled her from her thoughts and cognac eyes glanced up towards the clock that rest on the wall above the door to her left. It was nearing time for her to make her way to the staff meeting that had been announced after classes ended for the day. Between everything that had occurred, she had almost forgotten. As much as she just wanted to take a moment to herself, gather thoughts, make a plan, possibly track down Chitrita and Altair again and have a true strategy discussion, she knew it wasn’t possible as her attendance would be required at this meeting.
  
  God, she wanted wine, preferably red, preferably well-aged, and most importantly a bottle of it all to herself. Teaching was something she had given centuries of her life to and every couple of decades a student would come along who would make an impression that left Azura with the sense that they would not be easily forgotten. While she wasn’t completely certain yet the ancient witch had a sense that Pawar would become one of those students. One of the ones who popped into her mind decades later when others had faded into oblivion. The reason for this? A surface answer could easily be the fact that the young woman was one of her star students but in truth, it was because Chitrita challenged her at almost every turn. Even now as Azura was doing her best to remain sympathetic to the girl, to protect her, provide for her, Chitrita still seemed to have an insatiable need to challenge her in even the smallest of ways. Gods it made her want to down a bottle of 1982 Chateau Lafite Rothschild without a care in the world, especially given the day she had had, or rather the week, better yet the year.
  
  The thought brought a stab of pain to her barely mended heart as for what would likely not be the final time today Akihito’s face danced through her mind. She had managed to remain composed at the mention of him by Altair a few moments prior but then again she had become a master at masking her emotions when it came to him.
  
  The first few months she had been completely and entirely consumed by her grief. The hollowness of his absence felt like her very soul had been torn to shreds. She would never again get to lay in his arms, never again fly through the night sky at his side, never again hear his laugh, never again watch his brow furrow as he read a student’s paper, never again fight with that fiery passion they both had, especially when they made up. Losing him had felt worse than dying, worse than losing herself (a pain she knew all too well). Losing him was the worst kind of hell because he had finally gone somewhere she could not follow. He had unwillingly left her to face the torment that was life without the best parts of both him and herself. “There is no me without you.” They had told each other over and over through the centuries. How right they had been. Without him Azura had ceased being who she was, she put on the charade of it all but without him by her side there was a looming gap where the best parts of herself had once been. A cold void that was consuming her while simultaneously shoving her worst memories and feelings into every fiber of her being. She wanted it to end.
  
  Despite all she had endured through her countless years as a connoisseur of agony there was only one pain that ever came close to matching this. A pain she had only found her way through because Akihito had walked the path of grief with her. Alessandra, another she tried to protect, another who challenged her, one she couldn’t save. In some ways so similar to Chitrita but certainly not the same and Azura would never confuse the two. Her heart cried out in a soundless scream at the thought of her daughter, the one she buried in the cold ground under a cherry blossom tree over two centuries ago.
  
  Balling her hands into fists at her side, her deep burgundy nails biting at her skin, Azura did her best to help anchor herself as a wave of grief crashed over her. This was not the time for her to break down. Piece by piece her invisible emotional armor slid into place as she did her best to box her pain and heartache, storing it away for her to come back to later…much later…with wine. Taking a breath her perfectly formed emotional mask slipped into place. She could not allow herself to become lost in her grief, not now. She needed to focus on her job and on this damn meeting which was set to start in just a few moments though it seemed she was one of the few professors present by the time she gracefully sauntered into room 220.
  
  While there were seats available for the professors to take a moment's rest in Azura held no interest in claiming one. Instead, she made her way closer to the shelves lined with books, her earthy gaze wandering from binding to binding and only breaking to glance towards the door as new figures arrived. When the clock struck one o’clock sharp Azura turned her attention fully towards the professors now mingling in the classroom and noted that a few faces were missing, faces she had seen not so long ago in her office stealing her supplies. Reaching into her back pocket the chestnut-haired immortal let out a soft sigh and pulled forth a cellphone. Her thumb tapped across the screen until she finally pulled up the contact so graciously provided to her in the initial paperwork for the tournament. After a few rings a slightly familiar voice sounded on the other end, irritation laced into his greeting. “Hello to you too Chahaya.” Her hushed response was swift with an appropriate amount of sass leveled into it as she did her best to avoid drawing attention away from the now-started meeting. “Running late for the mandatory staff meeting? Or were you just planning to play hooky?”
  
  
  
  Mentions: Altair TobiornotTobi Chitrita & Bellamy honeycoves Cha-Cha Aviator
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Sigurd Berg​

Ilvermorny Dining Hall​

"...Wow."​

---

Sigurd felt his face warm up at the mention of his inaccuracy by the other student. His accent sounded familiar, but there was no time to identify it at the moment. Clearing his throat, he made an attempt to save face. "As long as fish hook throwing isn't a challenge, I should be alright."

Rising up from his knees, Sigurd got a good look at the boy. His hair was long and brown, relative to Sigurd's. His green sweater was certainly a stark contrast to Sigurd's crimson Durmstrang uniform. Just like with Kiara, there was an undertone of fatigue he could perceive. But there was something else he shared with his newfound travelling companion, his accent. It was unmistakably French, just like hers. Could they know each other? The answer would be revealed soon enough, once Kiara caught up with him. In the meantime, now that he had ventured further into the Ilvermorny dining hall, Sigurd's senses were met head on with the full force of lunchtime. Class had ended not very long ago, but the hall had already filled up with students eager to eat. And with the smell emanating from the food lines, Sigurd could see why everyone rushed over.

A variety of equally tantalizing smells competed for the young man's attention. A group of boys were carrying bowls containing a steamy white substance that was apparently called 'clam chow-dah', according to one of the students as he brought his nose dangerously close to the surface of his lunch and took a long whiff. One particular station was attracting a lot of foot traffic, students and faculty alike walking away with the longest sandwiches Sigurd had ever seen in his life. They lacked width, but made up for it with a length almost the size of a ruler. And the amount of ingredients that could fit between the slices of bread were obscene. Thinking back to the first dish, the mention of seafood elicited a wet growl from his stomach. A bowl of this clam chow-dah wouldn't hurt at the moment. Time zone discrepancies resulted in him departing from Durmstrang during the afternoon, minutes before lunch, and arriving at Ilvermorny at the day's start. It was well past time that he refueled his tank.

Just before Sigurd could turn around and let a slowly catching up Kiara know of his hunger and imminent joining of the food line, a blur with long, blonde hair zipped by him on its journey to the ground. When Sigurd directed his attention to it a half second later, he laid his eyes on girl in a beige sweater sprawled out on the ground, along with her belongings. And worse yet, the French student Sigurd had conversed with found himself caught in the crossfire. His green sweater was wet with what thankfully seemed to be water from a pitcher. Yet another tidbit of French vocabulary popped into Sigurd's mind: Déjà vu. But unlike Sigurd's violent reaction, the other boy took the mishap in stride. The Durmstrang champion watched as he offered the blonde girl a seat and tended to her, offering reassurance. All that care for a complete stranger? He wasn't acting like he just made her acquaintance, and as the interaction unfolded and smoothened out, Sigurd found that odd feeling in his chest from during History of Magic returning. From when he watched all the students converse with each other during the opening ceremony.

A pained shout broke Sigurd's focus and he was treated to a seated Ilvermorny student rubbing his head, an apple descending to the ground near him. The stoic student turned around and saw Kiara, now full of life and with a fire in her eyes, recovering from a thrower's pose. At the moment, Sigurd was perplexed, and his confusion increased tenfold as Kiara broke the distance in an instant and had her wand to the boy's neck. This was a far cry from the lethargic French girl Sigurd had begun acquainting himself with. Where was this reserve energy coming from? But more importantly, why was she threatening this student? Sigurd kept still and silent, watching the confrontation unfold. The young wizard's friends were having a laugh at his expense, especially when he rose to his feet and scurried away once Kiara released her hold on him. But when he muttered an insult under his breath, he was met with a fate much worse than a bruised ego. In a flash, Kiara was slinging a spell the boy's way, a very familiar size-changing spell. Sigurd watched as the red underwear the student proudly displayed began to shrink from view. And the more they tightened, the more the boy squirmed in discomfort like he urgently needed to use the restroom. The boy hightailed it out of the cafeteria, the jeering crowd parting to give him space to flee.

It was when Kiara approached the blonde girl who had taken a fall with a sympathetic expression that Sigurd felt he had some context. Was that boy the cause of this? Is that caused Kiara to go so far as to break a slew of school rules to avenge the victim's honor? Part of Sigurd saw the emotionally driven outburst as foolish. The boy could return and twist the story into one of an oppressed student being bullied by a foreigner. But another part of Sigurd found itself impressed at Kiara's bravery. Yet again, Sigurd had to jerk his head somewhere else as he found himself staring at the Beauxbaton student. But something she said forced him to look back in her direction. The French boy Sigurd had dropped the fish hook near just happened to be his school's champion, after something had happened to a Raphael. Was his removal linked to Clara and Cosmo? As Sigurd pondered this, the two French students connecting reminded him of something important, especially the boy name Auguste. His looks reminded the Durmstrang champion of another person of interest.

"Piper!" Sigurd whispered to himself before hitting his head with the palm of his hand. What a fool he had been, walking around and talking with people when he should be tracking down his classmate! He would have to make haste and figure out some way to track him down. "I have to run, I just remembered a duty I need to fulfill," Sigurd stated, thinking it rude to simply fade out of existence. "I'll be seeing you both around," He added before turning away and making his retreat out of the dining hall. On a whim, he decided that the library might be a potential spot Piper could be located at. Just like Sigurd, he took an interest in reading. He often noticed the taller boy at the Durmstrang library sitting by himself, head in a book. Hopefully, he was doing the same today.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Professor Einar

• 
  
  
  
  Professor Birger Einar
  Durmstrang - Male - Pureblood - History of Magic Professor
  
  
  
  Einar’s gaze never wavered from Piper as he struggled to piece his disjointed reality back together. The confusion in the boy’s eyes was unmistakable, and it broke Einar’s heart a little to see him like this. Still, he was grateful that Piper hadn’t been knocked unconscious for longer. Though his body may have been battered by the vision and the fall that followed, Einar knew from experience that it wasn’t the physical injury that would prove most difficult to recover from—it was the mental strain.
  
  Piper’s voice, soft and distant, reached Einar’s ears through the fog of panic. It wasn’t just the confusion of concussion symptoms that was clouding Piper’s mind; there was a deep current of fear under his words, something more profound, more instinctual. It was clear to Einar that the young seer’s vision had unsettled him deeply. That much was evident in the way he trembled, in the way his breath hitched as if he were reliving the moment all over again.
  
  "Er det Sigurd?" Piper’s voice was thin, rising with alarm. His concern about Sigurd, the new arrival, was palpable. Sigurd’s appearance here, in the wake of Cosmo and Clara’s abrupt removal, wasn’t a simple coincidence, and Piper’s unease regarding the change of roster was justifiable. But now was not the time to indulge in theories or half-formed thoughts. Piper needed guidance, and Einar would not let him down. Slowly, Einar stepped closer, his movements deliberate and measured, like a man walking in a field of fragile glass. He placed a hand firmly but gently on Piper’s shoulder to steady him as he attempted to rise. Piper wobbled for a moment, his body still unsteady, but Einar’s presence was a constant, a reassuring anchor in the storm.
  
  “Piper,” Einar’s voice was low and calm, just enough to break through the din of Piper’s confusion, though his words carried a weight of authority that the boy would instinctively respond to. “Take a moment. Don’t rush to stand. You’re still recovering, and it’s important that you let your body and mind rest.” He could see Piper's eyes darting around the room, confusion sharpening the lines of his face. He imagined that the dining hall, though filled with students, would likely feel eerily quiet to Piper in the wake of his vision and blow to the head—only the soft ringing in his ears breaking the stillness. Einar squeezed his shoulder a little more firmly, offering something of a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave his side.
  
  “Sigurd is here because he is your new partner for the tournament, Piper,” Einar continued, his words steady and deliberate. “He’s been brought in to replace Cosmo and Clara. He’s a skilled student, I trust him, and I’ve no doubt you’ll both make a formidable team in the competition. Let his presence here ease you in any way it can.”
  
  Einar’s gaze softened as he looked down at Piper, recognizing the dread that lingered in his eyes. It wasn’t just the prophecy that troubled him—it was something else, something that Einar suspected only he understood. The visions, the prophecies, were never simple. They were tangled webs of possibility, fate, and peril, and sometimes they came with the weight of unseen consequences.
  
  "You are experiencing the aftermath of a powerful vision, Piper," Einar said, his voice growing quieter but no less intense. "I know it is overwhelming. The pain, the dizziness, the disorientation—it’s all part of your gift. You’ve seen something, something that has unsettled you deeply. But I need you to listen to me now, for your own well-being." Piper’s fear was not unfounded. Einar knew the weight that came with visions like the one Piper had just experienced—visions that seemed to pierce through time and reality, visions that held secrets too dangerous to fully comprehend. The key now was for Piper to regain control of himself and to trust that those around him would help him through this difficult moment.
  
  It was terrible timing that such an incident should occur when he was required to be in attendance of a mandatory meeting. Every fiber of his being, every beat of his heart wanted to stay by his student’s side but alas he knew he had to depart now that the nurses had cleared Piper. "I must depart for a short time while you rest but I will find someone to stay with you." Einar reassured, his tone steady but filled with care. "When I return we will take this one step at a time. You must promise me that you will rest, it will help you to stay grounded. Don’t let the fear of what you saw cloud your thoughts. Focus on the here and now. Focus on healing."
  
  Turning his gaze to Kiara and Sigurd, who had approached them quietly, Einar nodded towards them. "Mr. Berg, Ms. Sinclaire, will you stay with him for now? Help him focus on his breathing. Keep him grounded while I attend this blasted meeting. It’s important that he doesn’t let his mind spiral too far."
  
  Kiara gave him a small nod, her soft eyes filled with understanding. As the two students approached Piper Einar found himself assured he had made the right call in who he was leaving to aid his student. Kiara’s calm presence was exactly what Piper needed right now—someone who could help keep him tethered to the present; while Sigurd would make a valiant sentry looking over his classmate and ensuring no further harm befell him.
  
  Einar’s focus shifted back to Piper, his eyes piercing as he spoke one last time. “I’ll be back. We’ll talk more soon. Rest now, Piper. Trust me when I say this will pass. You are not alone.”
  
  He could feel the weight of Piper’s fear, and though Einar couldn’t promise to have all the answers, he could promise to be there when his student needed him most. With one final glance at the trio, Einar turned on his heel and walked away, his mind already at work. There was more at play here than just a simple vision, and he would find out what it was before it was too late. For now though his towering form moved through the crowd and out of the dining hall, not coming to a halt until he was slipping into the meeting room where the other staff had gathered and introductions were just beginning.
  
  
  Mentions: Piper honeycoves Kiara WanderLust. Sigurd TobiornotTobi
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[Wolfiee]

Angelique Chimere

Professor

location here

mood here

outfit here

interactions

Bellamy honeycoves

“No more wondering about just wait a bit alright.”Angelique said, petting her phoenix’s head one last time. She watched her settle down onto the pillow before heading out of the room shaking her head. There was something else she needed to do personally before getting on with a couple other things. She sighed today was certainly turning out to be an extremely busy and annoying day. It didn’t take long before she was in a potion room over in a small area that had been reserved for her specifically. Her gaze scanning the mixtures before settling on one specifically before lifting it up carefully she swirled the mixture around watching the color. With her free hand she grabbed a droplet placing a couple drops of the liquid inside into the beaker watching the color change from a light blue to shiny silver with traces of white in it. She studied it watching for several minutes before setting a piece of candy onto the table with a very steady hand she dropped a single drop of the now silvery liquid onto the candy. A small fizzle sound filled the air before the candy that was originally red turned a silvery hue of red. Angel waited a few moments before picking the candy up and popping it into her mouth. She swirled it around before suddenly lowering herself down her hands covering her head, her breath coming in long ragged breaths. Her body shook as anger pulsed hard through her she saw only red as rage intensified. She swiftly pulled out a smaller vial as she stood up one hand gripping the table as the one with the vial lifted it to her mouth yanking the stopper out with her teeth before downing the liquid inside. It took several minutes before the anger cooled and she could release the desk. “Damn it.”she growled lowly to herself. She grabbed a quill swiftly darting down some notes while everything was still fresh. The ink splattered some in her haste but the words were still clear enough as she added details to her already long list of notes. Her gaze scanned some of the older notes she had received as a young student while working on this task. She had been working on this almost all her life and she was determined to find the perfect cure.


A sigh left her she couldn’t continue not when she had more things to do so with a flick of her wand. She cleaned everything up making sure the marks she had left upon the desk were now gone. With a final look making sure her notes were back with her and secured away plus everything cleaned up she left. She finally found one of the professors she was looking for and discussed with them how their student had received a detention from her. That student was Mey Sari.”Make sure they are there or I’ll have to hunt both of you down.”she said, causing the other professor to nod quickly. Angelique watched them for a few moments before dipping her head and heading away looking for her next target. That would be Bellamy now the question was where had he gone. After a few questions and a little bit of something else Angelique found where Bellamy was staying. Her hand gripped the door handle having knocked and when the answer was some strange noise as if Bellamy was in trouble she opened the door. She had not been expecting to find him in the middle of changing clothes. She blinked her gaze on him, flicking lightly up and down seeing Bellamy with his shirt off and him appearing to be wet with his pants unbuttoned. “You know most people would lock the doors while changing.”she said, letting her gaze drift back up from his chest to his face.

coded by natasha.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Aurelia Quansah

• 
  
  
  
  Aurelia Quansah
  Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary
  
  
  
  Mey’s passionate babbling about her schools affinity for flying trees rather than brooms as well as her history with quidditch wasn’t what Auri had been expecting but also wasn’t entirely unwelcome. As the young woman went on about her tree of choice to fly, the difference in flying trees over brooms, and how she had ended up a seeker rather than a beater, the smile on Aurelia’s full lips grew softer, less practiced, more genuine. When Mey’s words came to a sudden stop and her mouth shut tight like a mouse trap snapping shut and trapping the words within the Uagadou secondary’s brow furrowed ever so slightly with confusion as her head tilted to the side. Had she done something between her smile and nods to indicate she didn’t want to hear more? Had she somehow offended Mey? It had been an interesting lesson in the culture of another school as well as an honest treat to get to hear someone speak about themselves in such an excited manner but without trying to boast. Auri had enough people in her life who could go on and on about themselves in the most self-assured and boastful ways, Mey’s innocent ramblings about her fig tree had been so genuine and innocent that Auri almost felt robbed of something when her words stopped flowing.
  
  “Mey, it would, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, it would truly make my day for you to join me,” Aurelia replied to the young woman and held out her arm in offering, as though to prove she meant her words with the utmost sincerity. She had approached the brunette with every intention of asking her to tag along if she wanted, so to have Mey inquire about joining didn’t require a moments thought before answering.
  
  As much as this might be a competition Auri wanted to take time in this experience to get to know some of the other students beyond the games. She spent much of her time traveling with her grandmother and because of this she often met with important figures across the world. However, to have a chance to really just get to connect with someone her own age and learn about them…that was worth more than dining with the British Minister of Magic any day.
  
  Once the duo was on the move towards the student dorms to fetch their broomsticks Auri’s deep coco gaze glanced over towards Mey. “You didn’t have to stop ya know.” She smiled and looked back towards the hallway ahead of them. “You shouldn’t be ashamed when talking about things that excite you. If anyone ever makes you feel like you should be then that shows you a flaw in their character, not yours.” The young woman continued and gave her companion a gentle nudge. “I’d love to hear more about your fig tree and trials of finding your path to becoming a seeker whenever you feel like sharing.” Her voice was gentle and genuine as she breathed the words effortlessly out into the world. “I’m a keeper though when I was younger I thought being a chaser was the best position in the game.” She smiled as she spoke, silently hoping that bringing life to the conversation again would encourage Mey to continue.
  
  While many students might be on some quest or another to play mind games in order to garner information Auri hoped Mey would see this moment for what it was, an opening for friendship. Yes, they were competitors but that didn’t mean they had to hate each other at the end of the day.
  
  Reaching the dorms Auri pushed the door to hers open and was met with the sight of Amari perching on the end of her bed. The large African Fish Eagle turned her snow-white head towards the door and shifted slightly to observe the two witches as they entered. “You can pet her chest feathers if you’d like.” The heiress-to-be invited casually as she entered the room and walked over to the chest that held her broom. “She may look a bit moody but I’d wager she is dying for attention. I swear she would claim she is abused since I don’t have time to fawn over her all day and night.” Auri chuckled and was met with a soft screech from the eagle to which she playfully scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Her name is Amari.” The Uagadou student introduced her pet before nodding towards the bed where a pure white feline lay curled with a fluffy tail over her soft pink nose. “And that’s Chione. She is still recovering from the travel. She always sleeps for an entire day after we have made it somewhere new.”
  
  As she spoke she managed to unhook her broom from its travel case and held it firmly in her hand. Tucking the case back against the edge of her desk Auri turned to look at Mey, approaching the girl once more so that they could venture onwards. “Shall we head to your room next then the course?”
  
  
  
  Mentions: Mey honeycoves
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[WanderLust.]

LYSSA MONTISSERO
CASTELOBRUXO SECONDARY

Nervous

Ilvermorny - Dining Hall

Auguste Pyroclast

Click Me!

Lyssa fumbled around with paper thin napkins that became overly saturated and effectively useless every time she attempted to soak up the water that had spilled onto her involuntary companion. Her repeated apologies however, seemed to fall on deaf ears. Lyssa’s ears were still ringing so loud from her humiliation that she almost didn’t hear him when he said “stop.” It was his gentle touch on her arm that actually caught her attention, she froze in a manner befitting of her disparaging nickname, Bambi.

“Take a breath.”

Had she been holding her breath? The tightness in her chest was a telltale sign that she had. She did as she was bid, but the inhale came in shaky and ragged. “Viens…sit with me.” At the sound of his voice, thick with a distinctly French accent, Lyssa’s eyes widened even more. He was an international student, like her. Ostensibly a member of the Octowizard Tournament as well - though if that was the case, why hadn’t she seen him yesterday at the opening ceremony? She wanted to say something, anything, but her thoughts whirred by too quickly for her to be able to grasp onto any single one of them long enough to vocalize it.

“You are hurt.”

She shook her head softly, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks but she swallowed them down, forcing a smile despite her quivering lower lip. It was all she could do not to break down further in front of a room full of people. There was something about the way this boy was speaking to her, he was inherently gentle, his touch ginger as though he were afraid she might break at the slightest pressure… which wouldn’t have been an entirely incorrect assumption. Lyssa swallowed thickly, willing herself to speak before she gave the impression that she was mute.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she looked down at her hands out of habit. She had never been a good liar.

As he continued speaking, Lyssa found herself wishing that she had chosen to study French in secondary school rather than archaic Latin… but French was a romance language just like Portugese… how different could they be, really? Ton Pull. Piecing together context clues, she was able to ascertain that he was referring to her sweater, which she had ruined with her bloodied elbows. He was right, it was replaceable… her reputation however, was not so easily restored.

It was only then that Lyssa became aware of the commotion going on a few yards away. The boy who had tripped her was scurrying out of the dining hall clutching onto his trousers with a serenade of pitiful whimpers, a dark haired girl threatening to pursue him with her wand drawn. Had he tripped this other girl as well? Or was she attempting to stick up for Lyssa? Lyssa had to physically restrain her jaw from dropping at the notion that somebody else would willingly choose to entangle themselves in her social crucifixion. The guilt that washed over her was so strong she wondered if people could see it turning her green around the gills.

When the dark haired girl approached them, and it became evident that she was acquainted with the boy Lyssa had inadvertently spilled water all over - whose name, it turned out, was Auguste - Lyssa began to feel that familiar itch in the back of her mind, reminding her that it was time to return to the anonymity of the masses. She should get out of this interaction now, before she made a bigger fool of herself than she already had. Just as she was about to excuse herself, however, Auguste mentioned that his name had been pulled from La Coupe de Feu, and Lyssa paled.

“They call the Goblet of Fire ‘juiz imparcial’ in my country,” Lyssa paused, regretting having spoken as soon as the words left her mouth and eyes turned towards her. “The impartial judge.” She managed to squeak out. “If it selected you, that must mean the previous champion violated the terms of the agreement…” She wanted to flinch away from the confused looks she was receiving from the group of students in front of her, but instead, she attempted to hold her ground. “The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract, every contract has terms.” She finished.

She could feel heat rising to her cheeks as Kiara and Auguste stared back at her, Kiara bewildered and Auguste unreadable. By the time Kiara and the Durmstrang boy were called away by a professor to help with another student, Lyssa exhaled heavily, unaware that she had been holding her breath up until that moment. She had a nasty habit of freezing like that, stuck in place as though her feet had become rooted to the floor, her body so rigorously still that even her chest failed to rise and fall the way it should have.

Left alone with Auguste once more, Lyssa raked her mind for some excuse to leave - all she wanted was to return to her dormitory and hide herself away in one of her books for the duration of the afternoon. “You should probably change into some dry clothes…” she offered meekly, her eyes flicking towards Auguste’s still damp trousers. “Actually, here - let me.” removing her wand, Lyssa performed a complicated little swish of her wrist - the hot air charm - and dried Auguste’s clothes for him. “I’m Lyssa by the way… though,” she paused, a residual gleam of humiliation still lingering in her honey brown eyes. “Though mostly they just call me Bambi.”

 

[WanderLust.]

KIARA SINCLAIRE
BEAUXBATONS SECONDARY

Protective

Dining Hall --> Library

Sigurd TobiornotTobi Piper honeycoves Auguste Pyroclast

Click Me!

Kiara stared back at Auguste with equal parts joy and confusion. His name had ended up in the goblet of fire but he claimed not to know how? Her sapphire eyes narrowed slightly at the implication. If Auguste hadn’t put his own name in then who had? And what did that mean for Raphael? The slim, strawberry blonde girl seated next to Auguste answered as if having sensed Kiara’s question before she uttered it. La coupe de feu constituted a binding magical contract, and according to this girl, Raphael had violated its terms? She hadn’t seen Raphael since the opening ceremony yesterday… but how much trouble could he possibly have gotten himself into in the meantime?

“Nobody has explained to me what the hell is going on. I haven’t even prepared - I don’t know how to prepare for this. And what happened to Raphael?”

The sharpness of Auguste’s voice caused Kiara’s demeanor to harden ever so slightly. She understood his annoyance, but it wasn’t as though she were the one responsible for the miscommunications. They would have to sit down and discuss the matter with Professor Chimere sooner rather than later.

“Unfortunately, it sounds as though you know more than I do.” Kiara offered with a note of disappointment. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more assistance.”

Next to her, Sigurd uttered a name that echoed with faint familiarity, ‘Piper’ - and Kiara found herself following his gaze towards the other side of the dining hall, where Professor Einar and a group of nurses were busy fussing over a sandy haired male who was seated at one of the polished wooden tables. Sigurd excused himself, presumably to attend to the matter Professor Einar was currently minding, and despite herself, Kiara’s feet began moving to follow after him.

She backtracked a moment, returning to Auguste who’s attention was once again on the meek looking girl next to him, and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ll talk to Professor Chimere this evening and get everything sorted out, I promise.” With a quick peck to the side of his forehead, Kiara took off in the direction of Sigurd and Professor Einar, catching up to them just in time to catch the tail end of Professor Einar’s farewell.

"Mr. Berg, Ms. Sinclaire, will you stay with him for now? Help him focus on his breathing. Keep him grounded while I attend this blasted meeting. It’s important that he doesn’t let his mind spiral too far."

Kiara nodded dutifully, though her brow furrowed slightly as she attempted to assess the situation. Professor Einar’s ward seemed unusually lacking in color, his face pale and his features wreaking of exhaustion… he rather resembled Kiara herself after one of her tachycardic episodes. She recognized it all too well.

Bending down so that she was level with Piper’s face, Kiara softly ran a hand along the side of his head, gently brushing his hair out of his face and bringing his eyes to her own in an almost maternal way. His forehead was dampened with a thin sheen of sweat. “It’s Piper, right?” she didn’t wait for an answer, she recognized him from yesterday. “I’m Kiara, I’m a friend of Sigurd’s.” She offered with a smile. She wanted to get Piper out of the dining hall, somewhere with less eyes on him. When she felt like this she never appreciated an audience to her suffering. Though, Piper's dormitory probably wasn’t the best option either - she didn’t want to leave him alone to ruminate with his thoughts, lest his mind spiral too far as Professor Einar had cautioned.

“We were just headed to the library,” Kiara lied, fabricating the story out of thin air so as not to make Piper feel as though he were being babysat. “Would you like to join us?”

She waited for Piper’s answer, and when he didn’t readily object, she gestured for Sigurd to help Piper to his feet. Sigurd took on the brunt of the physical labor, assisting Piper anytime he stumbled or lost his balance, whereas Kiara provided a steady, reassuring presence, walking just a few steps ahead of the two Durmstrang boys as she continued speaking. “I didn’t see you in class this morning, Sigurd and I were in Professor Einar’s History of Magic Seminar… he’s got quite a performative style of teaching.” Kiara smiled softly at the recollection of the renowned auror furnishing his classroom with magical depictions of canonic historical events.

As they walked, any sideways glances that were cast their way were met with a cold, threatening glare from Kiara. A warning that she wouldn’t hesitate to nullify any threat to Piper if one were posed. “That must mean you were in Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Chimere,” A smirk pulled at the edges of Kiara’s lips as she thought of her supervising professor, a fierce woman who would not tolerate any bullshit. Much like Kiara herself. “How was that?”

As they passed through the large, stone archway that gave way to the school’s modernized library, Kiara dragged her finger along the spines of several laminated books that lined the shelves of the carpeted space. It certainly wasn’t as architecturally complex as the library back at Beauxbatons, but it was functional and well-to-do. She snagged an emerald green colored book with a portrait of a dragon on the outer edge as she passed, not slowing her pace at all, and decided to settle down at one of the unoccupied tables that was nestled away in a quieter corner of the library. Glancing down at the book she had grabbed, she silently read the title “Magical Creatures - A Beginners Guide to the Wizarding World’s Animal Kingdom” and got comfortable in her chair as Sigurd and Piper joined her.

“So - have either of you heard anything about when the first challenge will be? Or what it will entail?”

coded by natasha.

 

[honeycoves]

Faron Bellamy

@

profbells

• .
• .

• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  01:45

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  saints

  
  
  
  

  echos

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:15

  
  

  :

  hogwarts

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  where is your champion?

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  8:05

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  older

  
  

  
  
  
  

  due for

  medication

  .

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Irritated > pleasantly surprised

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  Brother has been around the entire castle at this point. Now in room 220.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Cha-Cha Aviator , Theo WanderLust. , Angelique Wolfiee / all professors at the meeting Azura, Einar Sanctuaryforall1 , Darweshi TobiornotTobi , Deianira(?) Pyroclast

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

Won't suspect a thing.

As Bellamy's time was consumed by Cha-Cha and his problem— a problem he was almost sure Cha-Cha had created, based on the man's shifty nature— he was becoming more and more conflicted on weather or not he liked the other man. He had a habit of being always on guard, but was even more aware of his occlumency in Chahaya's presence. He refused to allow him to glean anything from his mind, but if Cha-Cha had managed to see anything, he half wished he saw a giant middle finger. Accusing him of wishing to show apathy to a student due to their blood status was a ridiculous claim for him to make. While Aadesh may not have necessarily cared about the muggle-born students, Bellamy was a half-blood with a muggle-born wizard for a father. Bellamy had no stake to supremacy, even if Aadesh had.

Cha-Cha's hobby of being a nuisance didn't stop there. He accused him of being a poor auror for suggesting he avoid contaminating another professor's office with his student's blood, insinuated he was a cheap knock-off of Einar, and half-way called him a lazy idiot. While Aadesh would agree, the real Bellamy was a bit of a lazy idiot, who liked playing celebrity more than the king of espionage he claimed to be— which would ultimately lead to his downfall— Cha-Cha's words made him bristle. Something about his arrogant tone and smug side eye rubbed him the wrong way. He resisted the urge to strangle him and instead followed him to the potions professor's office.

Cha-Cha pulling a lockpicking kit earned a raised eyebrow from Bells, and an eyeroll at his snarky remark. Not in the hat I'd be expected to take off. He thought grudgingly, but said nothing, instead choosing to lean over him to observe his apparent skills. He reveled a little in the way that his watchful eye bothered Chahaya.

Obtaining the Essence of Dittany itself wasn't a difficult task, though, besides opening the door, his companion proved to be relatively unhelpful. He found the bottle of silvery liquid alone. Getting the potion to his student, who remained unnamed until they found Theo lying in the grass, was a much more complicated ordeal. A rainstorm had rolled in, making navigation and finding wherever Cha-Cha had ditch Theo near impossible. The rain was cold and slanting into his eyes, making seeing and thinking a struggle. At some point, Cha-Cha excused himself from Bellamy's company, leaving the crippled man to fend for himself against the elements. Cha-Cha's goodbye was lost over the sound of the heavy rainfall, as was Bellamy's confused "What?!" He stumbled forward, blindly, his eyes low looking for signs of, well, anyone, for he hadn't known that it was Theo who was left injured in the tall grass.

After a great deal of trouble, he found his student, bloodied and incomplete, passed out in the storm. He heaved a heavy sigh before wrangling himself and his bum leg down onto the ground. Carefully, he moved the remnant's of Theo's torn shirt, before administering the dittany. It only took a couple of drops for the skin to stretch over itself and advance the healing, evaporating on contact into a small puff of green smoke. Cha-Cha returned, offering his unwelcome advise and self importance, that should've been met with an "Obviously," and an eyeroll, but instead Bellamy nodded. Together, they half-carried, half-dragged Theodore back to his dorm with a near death experience when Theo nearly pushed him down the stairs, but Theodore was otherwise returned to a bed without too many problems.

He turned to follow Cha-Cha out of the dorm when two figures appeared in the doorway. Chitrita Pawar and a boy he'd never seen before—really, he had done his homework on all the accompanying students and professors, but the cast of characters was changing quickly between this kid and the Durmstrang boy who had caused quite the commotion in class early. Cha-Cha stopped to speak with Chitrita, and he felt his own heart stop for just a moment. He really hadn't thought of her much in recent years, but her presence at the tournament could pose a threat. She was the only person who would know who he really was if he slipped up in just the right way. Cha-Cha, who he already decided he did not like, speaking to her was only bad news. He saw, for just a moment, the little eleven year old girl she once was, the last time he'd seen her before the tournament.

As he strained to hear their conversation, he felt a dark numbness wash over him as the familiar name Aadesh was uttered by Chahaya. As insane as it sounded, he really hadn't heard the name Aadesh in quite sometime. He knew it was his own name, but was rarely referred to by it much anymore. But how would Chahaya know it? The look on Chitrita's face told him that she certainly hadn't shared that information freely— and knowing their own parents, it was likely she was ever even allowed to think the name. He glowered, watching Cha-Cha strut away. That would need to be taken care of. And soon. Now was just not the time. He mumbled something to Theo, letting him know he could be found in his office if he needed help, and left shortly after Cha-Cha, making room for Chitrita and her buddy.

Now that the action had settled, it occurred to Bellamy that he was soaking wet and somewhat cold. If he was going to be making that teacher's meeting, and making a half-decent impression, he should really change. He did his best to navigate back down the stairs and to his office, debating on how he should plan to deal with Chahaya, pulling his shirt off almost as soon as the door closed behind him. He tossed it aside, allowing it to fall at the conjoining restroom's door, and rummaged through a trunk for a towel and a new set of clothes. He was unbuttoning his pants when there was a knock at the door. He shut his trunk, which was apparently an invitation to enter, because his door swung open again.

"Miss Chimere!" He smiled, pleased by the surprise. He wasn't as upset as he should be to be found in such a compromising position. He shrugged slightly when she suggested he should've locked the door behind him. "Mes excuses, mademoiselle," He apologized lazily, "I was taking a stroll on the grounds when I got caught in a rainstorm. I was in a rush to change for the professors' meeting. I am surprised you've remained dry. Your classes are held out on the grounds, no?" He raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head slightly forward with a small smirk. He raised the towel he was clutching, using it to dry his hair and remove the weight of the water from his curls, and then began toweling his shoulders and chest, tossing his head from side to side to revive the short ringlets.

He took a moment to take in Angelique, beautiful with her two-toned hair and silvery eyes. He offered her a bashful look. "My apologies, but it's going to take me a minute to get changed. My leg slows me down when changing my pants. You can go on ahead of me, if you'd like?" Angelique offered to stay and wait for him, and he exited to the bathroom to change his clothes. He had fetched a sweater and trousers from his wardrobe, deciding that the change in weather permitted a warmer dress, and struggled to put on his pants and dry underwear for a moment. He exited, everything dry except for his hair.

Bellamy smiled, offering Angelique the crook the arm that was not inhibited by his cane. "Shall we?" Together, he and Angelique walked(well, she walked, he hobbled) to room 220, where they were expected to meet. He was just thankful it was on the same floor and he could avoid traversing the stairs once again. When he stepped aside and opened the door for Angelique, it was clear the meeting had already started, though they had defaulted to extending the niceties to stall for time for the late professors. He bowed his head to the meeting leader in his own way of saying sorry. "Apologies," He said, for the third time in such a short period. "I was struggling with the stairs again until Miss Chimere came to rescue me. I'm afraid that I'm a puppet without strings when left to my own devices anymore." He smiled, offering the younger woman a covert, but playful wink. He found a spot along the wall of the room for the two of them to stand, finding a windowsill he could half lean on for support.

He glanced at his watch. "Are we waiting for anyone?" He asked no one in particular.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Aviator]

Chahaya “Son of a Bitch” Arif // “Second-Rate Thug” // Male // Age 32 // Castelobruxo Professor // Legilimens
​

Shivering in his saturated clothes, Cha-Cha stumbled into his fifth-floor room. He inadvertently threw the door open so hard that he went half with it, bumping his hip into the wall. Heavy weights hung on his eyelids. Every time he blinked, they threatened to stick shut, despite the fact that he was standing. The massive king bed crooned a siren’s song to him, but he knew that if he fell in the bed in his present state, with mud and blood smeared on his clothes and reeking of vomit, it would be the bed’s first and only use. A lifetime of necessary frugality had trained him better than that, and he dragged himself into the shower, blasting the hot water until steam curled off his skin. After what felt like several hours but was really only fifteen minutes, he cranked the heat up in the room to a toasty eighty degrees and collapsed into bed. The mattress was a touch too firm, but he didn’t stay conscious long enough to lament this fact.
A low humming made him crack an eye open. He hadn’t turned off the lights before swan-diving into bed, and he squinted into the brightness. It was his phone, buzzing like a hive of angry bees on vibrate. It sat on a desk across the room, the wood surface amplifying the sound. Cha-Cha had half a mind to ignore it, curl a little deeper under the sheets, and go back to sleep. But the horribly inconvenient knowledge of his obligation to have his phone handy at all times for the next eight months while supervising the Castelobruxo students on their travels pressed upon him, insistent, like a toothache. He groaned aloud and threw the covers off and lumbered across the room, managing to snatch the phone on its last ring. He didn’t recognize the number. I swear to Christ if this is spam that I will find a way to send the Cruciatus curse digitally to the senders, he thought. He slid his thumb across the screen to answer and pressed it to his ear. “Hullo.” His voice was hoarse and groggy and cracked so that the word came out more like hul-lo-oo.
He winced and immediately pulled the phone back from his ear at the cranky, overloud voice that trumpeted through. Cha-Cha dialed the volume down. The voice wasn’t readily identifiable other than the fact that it was female, and the speaker had neglected to introduce herself. Something about a staff meeting? “Who is this?” he asked irritably. The caller revealed herself to be Ito, and while she extended a sardonic greeting, his eyes flew to the digital clock on his nightstand. Five after one. He racked his brain and determined that there was not a scheduled meeting that he was simply forgetting about. “...What staff meeting?” he hedged at last.
Ito answered that the location was Room 220, and that it had been announced on the intercom less than an hour ago. “Are you serious? And this is going on now?” At her confirmation that yes, it was, hope that he could peaceably return to sleep fled Cha-Cha like a dream in the morning. He pulled the phone away from his face to swear. “Yuh, I’ll be there,” he said gruffly. “Where y’at?” Ito patiently repeated the room number, which Cha-Cha, in light of his immense disappointment, had written off as a trivial detail the first time. “‘Kay, thanks, Ito-san. See you soon.” He tried to say this part a little more amicably, knowing that it was unfair to direct his anger at her. He hung up.
Cha-Cha regarded his current state of undress. It would be at least a good ten minutes until he arrived at this meeting. He raided the overstuffed, overpriced wardrobe of garments still with the tags on and tossed a few unpretentious items onto the bed that loosely seemed to go together. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, even though he wasn’t a fan. Black-and-white plaid pants that rolled up at the ankles. A black denim jacket that was a little tight in the shoulders and roomy everywhere else. Shin-high boots that were halfway between hiking boots and galoshes, with light brown leather that bled into a dark, rubbery outsole. The outfit was decidedly more hipster than Cha-Cha usually went for, like a recent college graduate who hadn’t quite come to terms with his adult status yet, but it was infinitely preferable to the array of suits and tuxedos that comprised most of the closet. He popped two more of the green-and-white pills. His fingers were still shivering uncontrollably from the cold shock of the rain, and he almost dropped one as he pinched it out of the vial. He dug through his luggage and produced a new fedora, this one white with a black band. Around it, his hair hung down in a wet, disheveled half ponytail.
In the minutes it took him to descend the three flights of stairs to the second floor, the heaviness behind Cha-Cha’s eyes receded. The world felt light and airy around him, as if he were moving on the wind, as if he were made of mist. As he rounded a landing, he almost didn’t notice when he stubbed his toe on the banister. The torches crackling in intervals along the walls seemed a little brighter, the snapping pops they made a little louder, and he stared at them until black dots were burned into his retinas. The tiredness ebbed away, until all that was left was a dreary tediousness for the paperwork this meeting would likely require him to file.
The door to Room 220 was cracked slightly ajar. It was abuzz with chatter as Ilvermorny and international professors mingled, sitting at three long tables arranged in a horseshoe. At the head of the room, a nervous-looking man with brown skin and glasses in a blue button-down shifted anxiously from foot to foot next to a lectern. His eyes jumped to Cha-Cha as he entered. An analog clock on one wall revealed that the time was 1:16, and Cha-Cha thought that, considering he’d received Ito’s call barely ten minutes ago, he’d made good time to the meeting, which appeared to have yet to start. He noted several open seats, and a cursory scan revealed that Amity Munroe, the alluring woman he’d danced with last night, was still absent. The fact that he wasn’t the sloppiest professor in the room comforted Cha-Cha somewhat, but what really comforted him was the smell of food wafting from gleaming metal vats.
The buffet looked like it had been hastily thrown together with the cheapest, fastest-cooking frozen foods possible. Cha-Cha instinctively searched for wine, knowing that oftentimes the wine was the only fun part about these meetings, but there was none. There were only water bottles and decanters labeled for coffee and tea. The three vats of microwaveable goodies held slightly overcooked corn dogs, hamburger sliders that Cha-Cha swore had come out of a White Castle box, and fries coated in so much salt that they resembled a blocked artery on a plate. Heedless of the questionable quality, Cha-Cha descended on the discount McDonald’s feast with alacrity. An hour ago he had thoroughly tossed up the contents of his stomach, and now he was ravenous. There were only four sliders left, and he shamelessly piled them all onto his plate, alongside a handful of fries. Snooze ya lose, Amity, he thought in regard to his absent colleague. The corn dogs reminded him of the food he’d split with Theodore at Ciao, and the memory of that debacle was too fresh. Cha-Cha poured himself a cup of coffee, sloshing only a little bit onto the tablecloth, and loaded it up with cream and sugar until it was the color and sweetness of French vanilla ice cream.
He teetered a little bit as he turned around, hunting for the most strategic seat. He’d been hoping to sit alone so that he could ruminate over his meal without interruption, but there were no seats with vacancies on both sides. He appraised his choices; he’d either have to sit next to Ito, Einar, or a youngish woman with full lips and wavy black hair whom he assumed was an Ilvermorny professor. Which of these is the rat who sent Chitrita after me? Or are they too scared to show their bitch face? he thought as he surveyed the delegation of mixed Ilvermorny professors and their international counterparts. At that moment, he made eye contact with Faron Bellamy, who was glaring at Cha-Cha as if looks could kill. Cha-Cha juggled his coffee cup around and blew a kiss with his free hand.
Making a face at the thought of sitting next to Einar, he settled for the devil he didn’t know quite so well and sidled up to take the corner seat beside Ito. He lost a fry from his oversized plate as he sat down, trying not to think about how he’d been snooping inside this woman’s rooms not even an hour ago. “Thank you for calling me,” he said without looking at her, his voice still low and throaty. Calling her Ito-san felt strangely formal, and he still didn’t remember her first name, so he omitted an address. “I somehow—obviously—missed the announcement about the meeting.” He grasped his coffee cup in both hands, basking in its warmth, and took a sip of steaming contents so hot that he fought the urge to do a spit take.
The White Castle sliders smelled fast and greasy and delicious, and Cha-Cha was about to dig into one when the door to the room flew open so hard that its hinges banged against the wall. Heads whipped toward the source of the noise as a figure in a gray pinstripe suit stormed into the room. Marcello Bellini’s face was twisted into a sneer, and he was approaching fast. When his eyes fell on Cha-Cha, they filled with a crazed light. “You!” His hand shook slightly when he pointed at Cha-Cha. “You son of a bitch!” A chorus of scandalized gasps filled the room at this loud, accusatory profanity.
Mildly, with his chin propped on one hand, Cha-Cha answered, “How did you know my middle name?” It was one of those things he probably would not have had the daring to say in front of a professional audience if he were not still considerably drunk. Astonished gazes flitted to him. It was hard to tell whether Bellini’s outburst or Cha-Cha taking it in stride came as a greater surprise to them.
“It was you!” Bellini shrieked. “I know it was you who lit that fire!” He did not halt his advance. Cha-Cha automatically stood and circled a few steps away from Ito, planting himself in the aisle between one of the tables and the buffet. Bellini did not have a wand drawn, so Cha-Cha didn’t draw his, but he was wearing some nasty-looking rings on his right hand. Cha-Cha wondered if he was seriously about to throw down in the middle of the staff meeting after yakking up brunch in the courtyard. They were close enough to the banquet that perhaps it would even be a food fight. The image of whacking Bellini upside the head with the tray of White Castle sliders was so ridiculous that it almost made Cha-Cha smile. Silence flooded the conference room, thick and bitter as a lungful of smoke as the spectators waited to see what the confrontation would escalate into. There is a sixty-percent chance that I will get fired today, Cha-Cha estimated, with surprisingly little grimness given those high odds.
“You burned my rooms down,” Bellini growled. He did not throw a punch, but he got really close to Cha-Cha. He wasn’t tall by any means; he was a sliver shorter than Cha-Cha, who had a history of dating women taller than him. Bellini’s chest was heaving with barely contained rage, and his long, hooked nose resembled the beak of a predatory bird. “You. You broke in last night, and… and… With that goddamn brat—”
Sensing that Bellini was nearing dangerous waters with the implication of Lis, Cha-Cha decided to cut him off. “Your rooms burned down?” he echoed incredulously. He set a pensive hand on his chin. “Candles are dangerous to leave on at night. You should always take care to blow them out before bed, you know.” But I guess you were too busy blowing something else last night, Cha-Cha thought, remembering the incriminating noises coming from one of the other rooms down the hall.
One of Bellini’s eyes twitched, the look of an animal discovering that it had bitten into a meal with spines. “You calling me fuckin’ stupid? Stop smiling, you smug bastard. You can smile all you want from Azkaban when I get your skinny ass thrown back in there.”
Stop smiling, or smile all I want? Those seem like contradictory instructions, Cha-Cha thought. But before he could reply, the man at the head of the room interrupted. “Professor Bellini! That is quite enough.” He swallowed visibly, and nervously pushed at the bridge of his glasses. “We have already told you. The culprit behind the arson was Clara Winter. We found parts of an enchanted map with spellwork from her wand in your room, and she has already been dismissed from the tournament as a result.” The brown-skinned man managed to say all this with minimal quakes in his voice, but now his tone sharpened a little. “If you could’ve contained yourself until the meeting started, we would have discussed this.”
“Evidence can be fabricated,” Bellini shot back, “especially by one with a criminal aptitude.”
“You should be mindful of the fact that you are accusing an esteemed guest right now. In front of all of our other esteemed guests,” said the guy at the lectern. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your Muggle Studies class right now, Professor?” There was a significant emphasis on this job title. “It starts in ten minutes.”
Cha-Cha was relishing the feeling of the word esteemed being used to describe him, when this new revelation caused him to raise an eyebrow. This douchebag teaches Muggle Studies? he thought in bewilderment. The dude who said my shabby suit was forgiven because I’m not from here and must be poor? How kind of him to make an exception for someone who doesn’t come from pureblood generational wealth. In that instant, Cha-Cha remembered that time from his childhood when one of his mother’s clients had gotten rough with her and broken her wrist, and she hadn’t sought medical treatment because they didn’t have the money. That other time, when Cha-Cha had had to watch a political rally for History of Magic class and write a report on it, and his mother had broken down in tears at the sight of the anti-Muggle politician on the screen because he was the one who had assaulted her sixteen years before.
Bellini’s face blanched a little at this subtle reminder of who was in authority. “Of course, Headmaster Bakshi. Do you mind if I apologize to our guest for my rude behavior in private?” he asked tightly. Before Headmaster Bakshi could reply, Bellini’s wand was in hand and he was uttering a spell. Immediately, the drone of the air conditioning cut out, as did the rustles of people snacking and the uncertain whispers some of the other attendees exchanged. Soundproof walls enclosed Bellini and Cha-Cha.
“You know, Arif, after all the tabloids I’ve read about your legendary powers, I’m a little disappointed,” Bellini began. His voice was like a sharp blade being drawn delicately across flesh. “Because you’ve let your mental defenses slip. I know it was you and that student of yours who started the fire because I’m seeing the memory of it in your mind. Your very drunken, twisted, guilty mind. I have heard every thought you’ve had since I entered this room. Is it true that that crackpot Bima Soleh was your daddy? Or is that just one more delusion of grandeur your whore mother fed you as a kid to make you feel special?” Cha-Cha’s horror was dampened as outrage burned through him. “Ouch. That struck a nerve.” Bellini’s smile was cold and satisfied, the expression of a snake that has just swallowed a delicious morsel. “What’s the matter, Arif? Nothing to say that I don’t already know?”
Cha-Cha cocked a hip and stroked his chin with one hand, sizing Bellini up. “Say, Marcello, is that the same suit you were wearing last night? Don’t tell me that’s the only one you have left after that unfortunate accident.” He gave a delicate sniff. “Don’t you think you’d better go shopping for a new wardrobe soon? It would be a shame for all the competing students if the professor who never changes his clothes becomes the press’s new headline.” Aware that Bellini was likely probing his thoughts at that moment, Cha-Cha summoned the recent memory of snacking on one of the scones that had been delivered to Bellini’s rooms minutes before it had gone up in flames. It had been cinnamon and delicious and still warm from the oven, and he’d scattered a few crumbs on the luxurious purple carpet. That pool table had been a real beauty, too. Cha-Cha almost regretted the fiery fate that had befallen it and the small collection of fiberglass cue sticks.
Bellini’s tan, leathery face twisted into an ugly rictus. “I don’t think you realize, you arrogant fuck—”
“Really, if you’re going to insult me, you need to do a more original job of it.”
“—just how thin the ice you’re standing on is. I know how you framed that Durmstrang girl. That’s a serious offense, and all I have to do is prove it. One misstep is all that separates you from the Dementor’s Kiss, Arif. There’s nothing noble or misguided or self-righteous about what you did, and your Auror friends won’t be so forgiving this time.” Bellini straightened his tie, which was a bloody shade of crimson. His voice reminded Cha-Cha of New York sidewalk: low and gravelly and rough, with that nasal, lazy drawl. Prone to giving the unwary a sprained ankle. “You are a second-rate thug, and your consistent inability to understand your own limitations will be your downfall. I will see that there is no grave to mark your passing, and the world will not miss you.”
Cha-Cha felt a stab of guilt at the news that Clara had been shipped back to Norway as a result of his deceit, but he forced it down. The deed was done, and the guilt would be just another emotion for Bellini to prey on. “I think your time would be better utilized lecturing your students rather than me, Marcie. Class starts in five. Tick tock,” he tutted.
Bellini studied him like an undertaker taking precise measure for a coffin fit. “Enjoy your time at Ilvermorny, Arif, brief as it may be. You won’t be making it to the second school on the itinerary.” With a muttered word, he dissolved the soundproof bubble around the two men. Then he turned and swept from the room, the wake of his passing stirring the air like a hot wind carrying the promise of drought and punishing devastation.
Cha-Cha turned halfway to find that, unsurprisingly, he was the focal point of the room’s attention. Some of the other professors were openly ogling the conversation they couldn’t hear, while others were busying themselves with chitchat and shooting covert looks behind hands. He moved to retake his seat beside Ito.
From the front of the room beside a projector, Headmaster Bakshi extended him a wide smile that made his lips move with unnatural stiffness when he spoke. “Did he patch things up with you?” he asked Cha-Cha. He attempted an enthusiastic swing of his arm.
“Yes.” Cha-Cha cleared his throat. He eyed his heaping plate of sliders and fries, which looked distinctly less appetizing than it had before. “He did.”
“Great!” Bakshi chirruped and left it at that, clearly eager to change the subject. “If everyone is comfortably settled, now that it’s almost one-thirty I’d like to open the floor to discussion about the first matter on our agenda. In the wee hours of this morning, the Goblet of Fire regurgitated a single name. It would appear that Auguste Lovell of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic will be representing his school as champion in addition to the formerly selected Raphael Badeaux.”

 

[Pyroclast]

Deianira Finch
Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Ilvermorny
Wednesday 28th August 2024 // Lunar phase: third quarter​

As the only professor in the meeting room who had known Headmaster Bakshi for longer than a few days, Deianira had taken the seat closest to him. She was curious to know everyone’s stories, and how they had earned a place in the Octowizard Tournament. One ball wasn’t enough - wasn’t even the time or the place - to really get to know them as individuals. She looked around at the new faces seated around the tables: there was an older gentleman, a few who looked to be around her own age, and one professor who had to have been only in her early twenties - a mere child herself. That the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic had sent somebody so young to support their contestant raised alarm bells in Deianira’s head. How much experience could such a young woman have, to, say, compete with the grey-haired Durmstrang professor? The students put forward for the test were all within two years of each other, but the range of professors selected seemed to have no such limit. Perhaps there was more to Professor Chimere than met the eye, but Deianira couldn’t help but wonder what Beauxbatons were thinking when they put her forward. She only hoped that she would prove herself capable enough to hold her own.

The young woman in question entered the meeting room, followed by Professor Bellamy of Hogwarts. Deianira appreciated his polite manner and smiled at him while he gave his reasons for their tardiness. Perhaps as an amputee, she had a special sympathy for him, and as she watched him hobble further into the room with his cane and lean against the wall, she sent him a smile. “There’s food over there, if you’d like,” she told him. “Otherwise, please take a seat. There’s still one or two to come yet.”

Deianira said it to be polite, but there was only one professor still missing and it was easy to remember which. Cha-Cha wasn’t a character one could easily forget. Professor Ito took her phone out and called him, only to find out that he wasn’t even on his way. Deianira met Ito’s eye and raised an eyebrow. She supposed she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt; after all, she didn’t know him, so who was she to judge? The man could have had a tough day.

A further ten minutes passed before Professor Arif finally arrived. He came dressed like someone who had peaked in high school and refused to grow up. Deianira could have overlooked that, but there was something in his gait, his eyes, his behaviour that raised red flags…he was intoxicated. She exchanged a glance with the headmaster while the Castelobruxo professor took a plate and began to pile it high with the beige food Bakshi had provided. She respected and admired the Ilvermorny headmaster, but the man did not know how to put on a good spread. As a professor at Ilvermorny, she had the advantage of knowing this and so had made sure to eat beforehand in the Dining Hall.

Not as soon as Arif had sat down beside Ito did the door suddenly fly open, slamming into the wall with a loud bang that made Deia jump. It was Marcello Bellini, the Muggle Studies professor at Ilvermorny, with such fire in his eyes that he looked almost unrecognisable. He pointed a finger at Arif and shrieked profane language at him. “Professor!” Deianira couldn’t help but react. She had never seen her colleague so livid, and would never expect him to address anyone in such a manner, much less an . She pushed her chair back and was just about to stand up and go over to him when he accused Arif of arson. The shock was all that kept her seated. As the scene unfolded, it came to light that Bellini’s room had been burned down, and apparently had been broken into prior. How the man had become so sure that Cha-Cha was the culprit was beyond her, but apparently he was willing to risk his reputation over it. The Castelobruxo professor wasn’t doing himself any favours, either, with his responses that only served to mock the man.

It was as though Bellini was unaware that anyone else was in the room, so fixated was he on Arif. The palpable tension was becoming hard to bear, and Deianira was grateful when the headmaster finally interrupted the pair. After being humbled, Professor Bakshi granted the Muggle Studies professor permission to make a private apology to their Castelobruxo guest - except that, rather than leave the room, Bellini decided instead to cast Muffliato so that nobody in the room could hear their conversation. Watching the pair was uncomfortable, yet Deianira couldn’t take her eyes off them. It was obvious by their facial expressions and body language that no kind of apology was being exchanged, but she supposed that at least talking was better than shouting at each other. It had looked before like one more snide comment from Arif would have provoked Bellini to draw his wand.

“Professor Bakshi, would you please put a stop to this?” Deianira asked him as she struggled not to cringe. “I think I can speak for everyone in this room when I say that we have better ways to spend our time than watch two grown adults insult each other like children.”

The second-hand embarrassment didn’t entirely fade even after Bellini made his exit. A silence befell the room and Deianira decidedly avoided looking in Cha-Cha’s direction, almost wishing that the man would leave. She was still waiting to find out what his qualities were that had got him a seat at this table. So far, she was finding it hard to believe that this drunk, rude, disorganised 30-something was Castelobruxo’s first choice of ambassador.

Part of her was surprised when Bakshi breezed past the awkward scene, having rather hoped he would have the authority to send Arif home, but at least the man wouldn’t be getting any more attention for the time being. There was only so much Deianira could bear to cringe through. With twenty minutes of the meeting time now wasted, she was pleased that the headmaster finally moved onto the agenda. He explained that the Goblet of Fire had ejected yet another name, and that a boy named Auguste Lovell would be representing Beauxbatons Academy of Magic alongside Raphael Badeaux, who had been initially selected.

Deianira frowned and leaned forward, bringing her arms up onto the table and lacing her fingers together. “What do you mean, ‘in addition’?” she asked. “Each school has one contestant. It wouldn’t be fair for Beauxbatons to have a second. Besides, the goblet surely would only offer up a second name if the initially chosen student became unable to participate. Has something happened to Mr Badeaux?” Deia looked over at Angelique. “Professor Chimere, what do you know about this?”

Interactions

Wolfiee Angelique
Aviator Cha-Cha, Bakshi
TobiornotTobi Darweshi
Sanctuaryforall1 Einar, Azura
honeycoves Faron​

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

• Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)

• 
  
  
  
  Naomi Eun Hai (De Vries)
  Beauxbatons - Female - Muggle Born - Secondary
  
  
  
  Vasu’s voice sounding like a panicked bird behind her brought the young woman's feet to a halt as she turned to look at him. The cold detached young man she had just spent the last several minutes trailing after a foreign professor with seemed to have disappeared and instead was replaced with someone who reminded her a bit more of the Vasu she had come to know last year when he became her muse for a day. Given his attitude since their most recent encounter began, Naomi would be lying if she said the question didn’t baffle her. Why did he suddenly care about whether she still liked his hair or not? She did, she always had. Even after, or rather, especially after Vasu was fresh off the quidditch pitch and the wind had brought new life to the dark locks. Now they were styled to almost mimic the wind battered style but in a more controlled manner as his onyx hair hung just above and around his eyes with a few locks curling out from his head. It looked nice, very nice, almost reminding her of a Greek statue sculpted into Apollo’s likeness.
  
  Before she could answer him Vasu continued his fumbling of words, truly becoming an entirely different being from the young man who she had just found at Professor Nyache’s side. His offers to return to his dorm with him for model pirate ship building, tarot card reading, and the mention of highly venomous snakes all felt as though they were slipping from his lips without Vasu being able to control the words. It was almost as though he were trying to find anything that might hook her interest and reel her back towards him but she couldn’t figure out why. Up until a moment ago she would all too easily have believed the young man valued her about as much as any random brick along the school walls but now he seemed almost desperate to make her stay by his side. Had something happened in the brief moment her back had been turned to him? Was it because she had told him to smile? She wasn’t opposed to sticking around if that is what Vasu truly wanted or needed in this moment but a part of her was still purring with curiosity as to why.
  
  Once again, before she could reply, her words were slaughtered in her throat by the sound of a new voice seeping in like poisoned honey behind them. Turning with Vasu to gaze upon the newcomer Naomi was surprised to find the barbed words had come from a professor, one she met the night before at the ball, Professor Arif.
  
  The way the two spoke to each other was far from what one might expect from students and professors, especially from differing schools. Clearly something had happened between these two either last night or prior to the competition as the malice they spat back and forth was certainly far too personal. When Professor Arif leaned forward to utter warnings about Vasu’s intentions and how she could do better her delicate eyebrows rose ever so slightly. It was not his words that spawned this response but rather the wave of liquor that rolled off his breath and into her face. By the looks of it the Castelbruxo professor had endured…quite the day so far with blood, alcohol, and other bodily fluids clinging to him…but then again who was she to judge as she stood before her fellow student and professor in a hospital gown and robe.
  
  For the next several moments Vasu and Professor Arif verbally sparred back and forth, both striking for blood here and there through their words. They reminded her of two bucks smacking their antlers into each other over and over again until finally Vasu was knocked out of the challenge and took a step back. As Professor Arif and his… signature scent…made their way past Naomi gave the professor a nod and a small kind smile in response to his words. “Thank you, professor.” She replied softly as her earthy gaze followed his movements past herself and Vasu.
  
  The moment Professor Arif was out of sight Naomi’s glance returned to Vasu who had finally come back off the wall to stand near her again. “Vasu…” She began but was cut off by his hurried words. Listening to him she tilted her head as his words flowed freely around her and blinked, giving him a sweet smile when they finally stopped. “We can go to your dorm, I don’t mind and I would love to see your cards and model kit.” She assured him without an ounce of hesitation to her words. She genuinely trusted that Vasu would not try anything seeing as his interest in her seemed to come and go with the tide. “A reading might be exactly what I need right now.” She joked and nodded to her appearance. “Just so I can hopefully avoid making this part of my everyday wardrobe.” She added as she did a slight curtsy in the hospital gown and robe. “As far as snakes go, venomous or not, I must admit I adore them. Their movements are so soothing to watch and I find their structure an enchanting figure to draw.” She admitted. Honestly, there were very few creatures she took any issue with, the only one she could truly think of being barracudas and she blamed Finding Nemo for that unique fear.
  
  “Oh, and Vasu,” She spoke up again as they began walking, her following his lead as she was still not entirely certain of where she was. “Yes, I still like your hair. Even if it’s not fresh off the quidditch pitch.” She informed him with a darling knowing smile pulling at her lips and a glimmer in her golden brown gaze.
  
  
  
  Mentions: Vasu Aviator
  
  
  
  
  TEMPLATE © BOKEH
  

 

[TobiornotTobi]

​

Altair Ibn Layla​

Chitrita’s Dorm(!)​

“Only in America!”​

---

Altair was in the middle of pulling his jeans back up to his waist when a bombshell was dropped on his head. At the declaration that he would have to attend the same brainiac filled courses as Chitrita, the Mahoutokoro secondary turned to her and was met with a determined gaze that gave the impression that the topic was settled already. But as much as he was here to support her, the idea of taking all those advanced classes he saw her attending back home didn’t seem so exciting. Flying and Astronomy were his two favorite electives and classes he had taken every year back home. However, since he would be on the road all year, Altair doubted that either class would be as engaging, seeing as how they would lack the professors who made the subjects interesting in the first place. Finally, Altair shrugged and returned her leer with a smile. "Your classes it is!"

It was just as that matter was settled that a second bombshell was dropped on Altair. His lip twitched slightly at the corner of his mouth, eyes darting to Professor Ito. In that instant, Altair's was filled with terror. Fear paralyzed him like a deer in headlights. The silver robe with red streaks on his back suddenly felt way too hot. Odinson was killed? Then what was he doing here? Shouldn’t the tournament stop so the killer can be detained? But just as quickly did those feelings manifest, that they disappeared. To Altair, it felt like a massive knot that formed in his stomach deflated, filling it with cool air and relief. But most importantly, confidence. Despite feeling as though the world was closing in on him at one moment, the next gave him enough adrenaline to feel like he could take it on. Those negative feelings found themselves shoved into a cage and dropped to the bottom of the ocean. A rejuvenated Altair crossed his arms and prepared to address Chitrita’s concern.

"The first thing we should determine is what killed him in the first place. Then we can build a def--" Before Altair could finish his sentence, Chitrita dropped another question. Then another. As the Mahoutokoro champion continued to inundate her professor with inquiries, Altair found himself on the sidelines of what seemed to be a conflict between his classmate and instructor. At the moment, he was feeling very much like a saru in the middle. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object, he commented internally. The conflict climaxed with the two females staring at each other, the room in total silence. Altair swapped between looking at their faces. Professor Ito always had that hard as a rock expression that could turn coal into diamonds, but this was a side of Chitrita he had never seen before. A total far cry from the positive, cheerful student he stole glances at in the hallways. Eventually, the first to turn down the intensity was Chitrita, citing a long morning as her reason for backing down. Altair finally exhaled, the tides calming down, temporarily. And as the monkey in the middle, Altair decided it was time for him to catch the ball and run with it. “Professor, its been a long morning for both of us, I say we take some time away from academics so we can get our heads in the game and—“

"Come on, Layla. If we're going to be taking classes together, we should go to the library. Catch you up to speed."

Altair’s eyes inflated like balloons and tracked Chitrita like heat seeking missiles. “Chitrita. C-chitrita, I just spent a full day plus staring at books! I need brain numbing activity!” But his complaints were thrown to the wind as the high achieving witch made her way to the door after passing Professor Ito. Altair took a deep breath and gathered his things so he could follow her out. As the secondary walked past his Potions professor, he gave her the ‘ok’ sign and a smile. To his dismay, neither seemed to put her at ease. She was still frowning, deep in thought as he emerged from the room. The team meeting adjourned, Altair caught up with Chitrita and slowed down so he could match her strides. A quiet air lingered around the newly formed duo, but Altair was brimming with held-back energy. For the foreseeable future, he was now the travelling companion of one of the cutest girls in school, and if he wanted this trip to be a memorable one, he would need to make a better impression than exploding pants boy. Show that he wasn’t just a goofball. But how would he go about that?

"So, is orange your favorite color?"

Whatever icebreaking question Altair was plotting in his head found itself choked up in his throat. Infinitely surprised by her forwardness, the younger boy took a few seconds for his motor mouth to stop sputtering and run properly. He returned her smile, happy that showing her his underwear didn't cause emotional damage. "Yeah, it is! It's bright, lively and easy on the eyes! Just like me! Yellow's a close second place, though! Same reasons, too. Maybe not as easy on the eyes as orange, but I still love it. There's just something about perky colors that does it for me!" A mischievous smile formed on Altair's face as a follow up question formed in his mind. He was just about to ask if orange was her favorite color when his classmate took his arm and told him she had forgotten a textbook before heading back up the stairs. "Sure, see you there!" Altair replied, watching her leave. Right before he could continue on to the library, his sub-conscious gave him pause. Aren't we supposed to stick with Chitrita? Y'know, so she doesn't end up getting hurt? Altair took turns looking down the stairs to up the stairs, his imagination churning out possibilities. And when not a single one of them were good, the secondary spun around and darted back up the stairs, was momentarily distracted by a cute brunette walking with her friends, and came to a stop right behind Chitrita. Her moodiness was back, as she did not look happy to see him.

Altair began explaining his return in hopes of calming her down. "Professor Ito gave us orders to stick together! If something happened to you, I'd never hear the end of--!" A hand waved in his face and the universal sound for being quiet cut the male student off from talking. They were standing in front of the door to a room, a room that did not belong to Chitrita. As he began to ask why they were here, Altair found his question answered when the door opened and two men stepped out. One was definitely a professor, there was an air of haughtiness around him despite his wet clothes. The other was definitely a student. Besides his young face, who else would walk around looking like that? The only similarities they shared was their soaking wet clothing. He was a disheveled mess beyond wetness. As everyone stared at each other in silence, more and more about the encounter offered itself up. A quick sniff in the direction of the student prompted Altair to wince. He smelled like an alehouse. And was that what he thought it was on his shirt? This day kept getting weirder and weirder.

Altair took a wild guess to break the silence. “Is this one of those hazing rituals I’m always hearing about?” With the state of his clothing, Altair was surprised when it was the student who gave an exact answer. But considering he called his ‘professor’ by his first name, maybe he wasn’t a student after all. Once he finished, the men walked away and Chitrita gestured for him to enter the room. Although he raised an eyebrow and internally wondered why they were walking into a seemingly random room, Altair left his suitcase by the door and walked in first. “Is this where all the girls are hiding?” He said jokingly. What wasn’t a joke was the mostly empty room, save for the one boy promised by the men. Altair stood in the doorway until Chitrita slid past him and sent him away to find a towel.

Altair looked to the other boy who had immediately sapped all the attention from him. Is this what playing support was all about, getting ordered around over and over? “Right, but some context would be killer right now,” He asked while walking out the room on his quest. Fortunately, the boys’ lockeroom was nearby, so it didn’t take too long to grab a towel and return. Handing the object to her, Altair watched Chitrita provide care for the hunk laying in the bed. And then, as if the scene could not get any more confusing, said hunk rejected Chitrita's drying. Who would say no to getting dried off by a cute girl? Altair knew at least three people who would commit horrible crimes for the chance to have Chitrita Pawar touch them. And Altair shared a room with one of them. The boy was tall and muscular, sending Altair into fight or flight mode as he rose to his feet and approached him. When he walked past Altair as if he wasn’t even there, the shorter boy ran a hand through his hair and whistled. “I think that’s our cue to leave! What would you say to some lunch, because I am starving!”

 

[honeycoves]

Mey Sari

@

meymeymey

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  00:04

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  looking out

  
  
  
  

  joy again

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:09

  
  

  :

  reminder:

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  you should talk less.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:08

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  how

  embarrassing

  was that?

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  nervous > invigorated

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  Hallway > dorm > sky

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Auri Sanctuaryforall1

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

Kiss me and shut me up.

When Aurelia smiled at her, with her beautiful smile, Mey felt the sting of Ramona's rejection lessen. She was relieved that Auri had accepted her invitation— or extended the invitation? Mey wasn't sure who had really done the inviting. Had she invited herself? That was probably a bit rude of her. Her mother would be ashamed if that were the case— and excitedly hooked her arm in with the other girl's, beaming herself. As the two girls began to walk to their dorms, attached at the hip, she did her best to keep her trap glued shut. She tried humming a song in her head, and not aloud, to occupy herself and stop herself from saying whatever came to mind. It wasn't a real song, which made it engaging. She usually forgot the words to real songs anyway, she'd get stuck in a loop with the same verse over and over again because she couldn't remember the second one that came after the chorus. She was in charge of making up the music in her head, with no words, and it was far more fun that way.

Auri nudged her, disrupting the short-lived melody that had corralled her mind. "Stop?" She echoed, her brows knit in confusion. She blushed when Auri explained that she liked listening to Mey's babblings. The way she talked about her excitability, it almost sounded like a compliment. She turned her face away as Auri spoke, hoping to hide the strange mix of flattered and embarrassed that she felt. Her whole life she was told she spoke too much, but Auri was telling her she should speak more. People were confusing. She couldn't get Vasu's harsh jab at Ramona out of her mind, but perhaps it applied to Auri. She was being nice to placate her, since she was the enemy. Perhaps she was trying to get information about Vasu out of her. She noted the idea to herself, putting it on a mental reminder to avoid speaking of him to the foreign students. She wasn't sure he'd appreciate it anyway.

She smiled softly, attempting to jump back into the conversation and moderating herself to speak just the perfect amount. "I am no good at chaser either," She said bashfully, shaking her head softly. "I need two hands to catch the ball, which leaves me none for flying." She giggled. She was a good flyer, it was one of the few skills she had managed to pick up on and retain at school. She could fly with no hands if she really wanted to, but always had a difficult time handling the quaffle. "My captain in the Black Court is a keeper too. His name is Lev. I think all keepers must be dutiful and quick. And pretty." As they approached the stairs, she unhooked her arm from Aurelia's, afraid to tumble and drag her down the stairs by accident. Thankfully, the walk between where they met and Aurelia's room was short.

Aurelia pushed the room to her dormitory open, and Mey was unable to contain her awe at her pet bird. "Wowwwww," She gasped, slowly approaching the beautiful creature. "Your pet is so beautiful! I have never seen a bird like this. It is an eagle? We have eagles in Türkiye, but none that are like this. They are brown or golden, but not much white. I was thinking that white-headed eagles are from here, in America? Is it from America? I did not know they had black beaks." She grinned when Auri said she could pet the creature, carefully extending a single finger to stroke the white feathers on Amari's chest. The bird looked at her with what Mey could only describe as a menacing curiosity, in a way that made her appreciate the bird even more. She wondered if it could understand her intentions to admire it when it gave its wings a quick stretch, flashing her two-toned feathers. She straightened when the cat was introduced. "I wish I could sleep all day," She whined, enviously. But she approached the cat to give it its own examination of appreciation. "I do not have any pets. It is difficult to move them for the summers and take care of them in my home. I wanted an owl for writing, but my mother will not allow a bird in her house. She says they are too messy." She extended the same cautious finger to Chione that she had to Amari, the white creature gently pressing her pink nose to her finger tip.

When Auri offered they then go to her room, she stood and nodded decisively, leading the way out. It didn't take long for them to walk down the hall to her own dorm, where she flattened herself onto the floor to reach under her bed to fetch her own broom, taking the time to babble on about how she'd never had pets and how she had purchased the broom second hand for early flying lessons before she was able to obtain her fig tree. The tale didn't stop when she and Auri made their way down the stairs to get outside. "My mother and father are not wizards," Mey explained. "Anne— my mother— she is not really understanding this world. When school required for me to have a broom for class, she nearly passed away. I have tried to have her see a quidditch match, but she will not have it. She is saying, 'Mey, your strange life worries me enough. I do not need to see my child plummet to her death.' She is always so serious, but that is okay." Her story came to a halt when she opened the door to the grounds and was met with heavy, pelting rain. She frowned slightly. "Oh."

She glanced at Auri, feeling a little bit sorry that their plans might have been ruined. Then, she smiled widely. "Still up for a flight?" She asked mischievously. She gripped her broom tightly and dashed out into the storm, grinning. The rain was cold, and the wind was strong, but there was something exciting about it. She was glad that Vasu had braided her hair for her, it kept it from whipping into her face and sticking to her skin. "Come!" She beckoned Auri, hopping onto her broomstick. She zoomed into the sky, turning her face up towards the clouds and allowing the rain to wash over her face. She looked behind her to Auri, who had taken after her and grinned. "Do you still want to go to the course?" She shouted over the sound of the storm. "I bet I could race you!"

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Pyroclast]

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

Before Kiara could respond to Auguste’s nervous venting, a voice piped up from behind him. He turned and looked at the girl he had been talking to before, the bright streaks of blood sharply contrasting the white of her sweater. She continued, in a soft accent, to explain how the Goblet of Fire could only have selected him if the previously selected champion violated the terms of the agreement. Auguste briefly wondered what the consequences of violating those terms were. Perhaps the consequences would be worth it to get out of the tournament. He didn’t imagine there was anything in the Goblet’s terms that either excused or accommodated students with lycanthropy, so maybe breaching the contract somehow was his only way to get out of it.

There was a glimmer of desperation in Auguste’s eyes when he turned back to face Kiara. Unfortunately she couldn’t explain what had happened to Raphael, but he wasn’t really expecting her to know…he just needed to find someone who would. “C’est bon,” he assured her with a melancholic half-smile. “I’m just glad to see you, Kiara.”

Auguste had almost forgotten about Fish Hook boy until he uttered something to Kiara. He followed his friend’s gaze until he saw a boy sitting at a table, surrounded by nurses and a worried man who looked like a professor of some kind. The boy didn’t look well at all, and Auguste had to assume that Kiara was acquainted with him when she began to follow Fish Hook over to the scene. “À plus,” he called faintly after her, not expecting her to hear him. But Kiara turned on her heels to return to him, and swept him into a tight embrace. It was unexpected, to say the least, and he smiled, a genuine smile this time, at her words of reassurance. He had a feeling that if he stayed in this tournament long enough, the two could become good friends. She kissed his temple before running off to catch up with Fish Hook, and he actually felt some of the weight fall from his shoulders.

There was a slight awkwardness in the air when he ended up left alone with the girl. Perhaps it was because she was shy, or that he was shy, or that she had just witnessed some of his anxiety surface, but as soon as their eyes met he had to look away again. Auguste was about to apologise when she drew attention to his wet trousers. He looked down to find an unfortunate dark patch that made it look like he had wet himself and his cheeks began to tingle. “Oh -” Before he could scurry off to change, she kindly took out her wand and performed a spell that he didn’t recognise. An alarming warmth spread across his crotch and down his legs. At first he didn’t understand what she had done, and felt his face turn a deep shade of pink. “Oh - uh…th-thank you…” he stammered, when he finally realised that his trousers were now dry. The hot air she had directed at the area reached through the fabric, heating everything underneath, and it almost felt like, in some way, she had inadvertently touched him.

He was aware that his cheeks were still burning when the girl began to introduce herself, and it was all he could do to focus on her words and not follow his instinct to run from the room to cool himself down. “Bambi?” he repeated, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. She certainly had the eyes to warrant such a nickname: large, brown, doe-like eyes that held a natural expression of wonder. “My name is Auguste. Mostly they just call me Auguste.” A small laugh escaped him when he realised how stupid he must have sounded trying to reflect her style of introduction. “Maybe I am just not enough interesting to have another name!” he said of his lack of a nickname. “Bambi is cute, but I will call you Lyssa if it’s okay with you. It is a, uh…” Were his cheeks still pink? “It’s a pretty name. Too pretty to replace.”

As if he weren’t embarrassed enough already, his stomach decided to take that exact moment to remind him that he had barely eaten anything for the past 24 hours, and emitted a loud, impatient growl. If his cheeks had made any progress on returning to their usual colour, it was surely being undone. “Excusez-moi,” he said, raking a hand through his hair as he cast Lyssa a sheepish smile. “I had just sat down when you fell and everything happened, so I haven’t eaten yet...Would you like to sit with me?”

He let her sit back down on the seat he had led her to before, and took the seat opposite. The scents rising from the table were tantalising, and he cast his eyes over the feast before him, identifying his options as best he could. Clam chowder, lobster rolls, hot dogs, creamed corn, roast meats and vegetables…Was this what the people at Ilvermorny ate for lunch every day, or was today a national holiday he hadn’t heard about? He didn’t recognise everything on the table, but then his eyes fell on something dear to his heart: la soupe à l’oignon. It was exactly what he wanted, the very thing that he knew would make him feel a thousand times better. But…he quite liked Lyssa’s company, and she had been sweet so far to overlook his little nervous outburst earlier on. If he was still in the stage of making his first impression on her, he didn’t want to ruin it by making his breath smell like onions. So, with some reluctance, he pulled his longing gaze away from his favourite dish and instead began to serve himself some cuts of roast pork, vegetables, potatoes and apple sauce.

“Alors, Lyssa,” he said, casting her a shy smile from across the table. “You are here for the tournament?” There was a slight pause before he added, “I notice you don’t sound like the other students here - and me neither, obviously. So, where do you come from? ¿Es español lo que habla?” It was a hopeful guess, as he could speak Spanish quite well, having grown up in the French Basque Country only a ten minute drive from the border of Spain. He took a bite of his food while he waited for her answer, covering his mouth with one hand as he chewed. She really was very pretty, and sweet, too, and he wished he didn’t have to eat and instead could give her his undivided attention.

WanderLust. Lyssa, Kiara
TobiornotTobi Fish hook boy (so sorry)

 

[Aviator]

Vasu Saini // “Wannabe Lady-Killer” // Male // 5th Year // Koldovstoretz Champion // Parselmouth
​

Naomi’s smile was real and soft, crinkling the edges of her eyes. It dissipated the residual anger that Vasu felt in the wake of the encounter with Cha-Cha, like sucking the venom from a bite. As soon as he’d suggested a model kit and tarot cards as a way to pass the afternoon, he’d feared that Naomi would think him a nerd and scoff at him before sauntering away. Building things was typically a boys’ activity; Ekta had yet to assemble anything with him because she didn’t want the stuffed animals that attended her daily tea parties to judge her for unladylike behavior. And many foreigners didn’t take astrology and fortune-telling seriously like Indians did, who regarded them as irrefutable metrics of identity and future prosperity. In fact, to Vasu’s great annoyance, several of the Christians he’d met regarded tarot cards as tools of the devil. He didn’t know Naomi’s religious background, but he’d been more afraid of her ridicule than of the possibility of offending her. The nonbelieving Westerners that he’d met were worse. A lot of them thought tarot cards were a hoax, a silly, meaningless tradition of primitive cultures and charlatans trying to sell you something.
But if there was any deceit hiding within her enthusiasm, he didn’t detect it. Before he could stop himself, he was halfway returning her smile, like a misty reflection in unclear waters. When he caught himself, he schooled his features into polite attentiveness. Smiling, as his grandmother had drilled into him, was for women and fools. Not men, and especially not the oldest man of the family. In Vasu’s case, he was the only man, as of almost a year now. “The cards have great power, but the questionable quality of your wardrobe might be out of their hands,” he returned, surprising himself with the easy tone he’d slipped into. “I don’t know if I would describe Archimedes as soothing,” Vasu warned, his eyebrows shooting up in emphasis. The conversational cobra had a sharp tongue in both a literal and figurative sense, and he’d justified dosing the Castelobruxo professor with lethal venom on account of his having an annoying voice. Archimedes had also shamelessly commandeered one of the unused beds in the dormitory as his nest. For both the newcomer’s health and his own self-interest, Vasu hoped that Ilvermorny wasn’t planning on giving Valencia and him a third roommate anytime soon.
“It’s right this way,” he directed, heading for the steps at the end of the hall at full steam, and then slowing down when he saw that Naomi couldn’t or wouldn’t match his swift pace. He stood awkwardly waiting for her to catch up, hope and anxiety warring inside him. The onyx-and-jade engagement ring suddenly felt very tight and heavy around the third finger of his right hand. He had never taken a girl to his dorm before. Girls had been forbidden to him ever since his first-year flirtation with a cute girl in his Magical Theory class named Anzhelina. After they’d returned from winter break, she’d suddenly stopped talking to him, brushing him off or finding an excuse to leave whenever he approached her. Although he couldn’t prove it and she’d always denied it, Vasu was certain that his grandmother had done something to meddle with their friendship. He was also certain that his grandmother would disapprove of him leading Naomi up to his dorm. Gran would call her something archaic and vaguely offensive like a dyed-blond strumpet and say that even touching her risked dirtying the purity of their bloodline.
However, it was partly the knowledge of this disapproval from one he despised so much that spurred on Vasu’s decision. He wondered if Chitrita had stayed half as chaste as him during her years at Mahoutokoro, and in the event that she hadn’t, he didn’t want to be the sucker who’d been played on their wedding altar. He appraised Naomi with an opportunistic eye and wondered, if his tarot reading impressed her, whether he could change that this afternoon. Her gaze swept up at that moment, and she looked slightly alarmed at the intensity with which he was staring at her. She asked if she had something on her face. Feeling bold, Vasu tried for a charming answer, though charm was not something he was practiced at. He had no reason to charm others when he could be objectively superior instead. “Several things, actually, but they’re all very pretty and should stay as they are,” he said impulsively, trying to project confidence when all he felt was cringe. Oh gods, had that been any good? Did telling a girl she was pretty count as a pickup line? If so, he was brand new to the game.
With Naomi’s compliment about his hair putting a spring in his step, she and Vasu wound down a flight of stairs until they were on the fourth floor. Despite himself, he wondered whether her dorm was on the same floor, and whether they might have any incidental future run-ins when one of them was on the way to or returning from class. The hallway had a crisp, papery smell with a splash of something too sweet, like new textbooks and cheap perfume. When they arrived at Vasu’s door, to his irritation, he found that there was, indeed, a third name scribbled in black dry-erase marker on the whiteboard on their door. S. Berg. Vasu briefly wondered whether Berg was a late arrival to the tournament or a regular Ilvermorny student with a last-minute dorm switch, but he found he didn’t care. He resisted the urge to wipe the name off the whiteboard, replace it with some rude choice words, and fling it halfway down the hall. Coming to terms with the idea that his new roommate might be in the dorm at that very moment, Vasu took a breath and composed himself. There was the magical click! of a lock as soon as his hand touched the knob, and the door swung inward.
He did a quick sweep of the room and determined that, fortunately, neither of his roommates was snuggled beneath blankets, not immediately obvious to the eye. One time at Koldovstoretz last semester, Vasu had been too eager to break out the pickle vodka from his hidden stash. He hadn’t noticed that Mikhail—that pimple-faced, taped-up glasses loser—had been hiding in bed and tapping on one of those Muggle electronic devices until too late, and Vasu had had to surrender half of his trove to keep Mikhail from ratting him out to the Red Court prefect. They were two mistakes that Vasu had never made again: not scanning the dorm for hidden witnesses, and the pickle vodka itself. The foul taste had lingered a whole day later.
There were clothes and empty chip bags scattered about the foot of the bunk beds, and Vasu picked his way across to his side of the room, fixing the abandoned garments beneath a scornful eye. Oh, hell no, he thought, and added lay down the law with roomies to his mental to-do list. “Sorry for the mess,” he said stiffly to Naomi. “It would appear as though my roommates are still unpacking.”
Back so soon? A triangular, mottled head peeped out from underneath a red sweatshirt. Archimedes’s tongue flickered out between his lips as his gaze settled on Naomi. You didn’t tell me you would be bringing visitors, Master, he bit out testily. It’s bad enough that I have to share space with that glassy-eyed lump of mange. It poked its nose around this morning, and I had half a mind to give it a warning bite. Vasu knew immediately that Archimedes was referring to Zoya, the charm doll in the shape of a cat brought to life with a complex series of spells. It was meant to simulate the amusement of having a pet with none of the responsibility or costs of feeding or cleaning up after it. Vasu glanced beneath his desk and affirmed that Zoya was indeed alive and well, her fluffy black head resting on her paws. Her tail twitched over her nose at the sight of Vasu and she shuffled around, resettling with her backside to him.
Vasu shot a covert glance back at Archimedes. The snake hadn’t asked him any prompts that needed answering, and even if he had, Vasu figured enough damage had been done when he’d shown off his Parselmouth status to Chitrita, Theodore, and Cha-Cha. For the sake of a competitive edge, he needed to keep his tricks up his sleeve. And from a criminal standpoint, he didn’t need anyone else linking him to the poisonous assault on a foreign professor. He found it slightly odd that Cha-Cha hadn’t brought it up during their most recent encounter on the professors’ floor, but because his silence benefitted Vasu, he didn’t question it. He gestured at the desk chair for Naomi to take. “You can sit right there,” he said generously, as it was the only chair belonging to him in the room. Not so generously, he dragged up the desk chair of one of his roommates, unsure which furniture was associated with the top or bottom bunk and not caring. Knowing that there was half a chance that this chair belonged to the sloppy culprit whose clothes Vasu had stepped over, he reminded himself to cast a Permanent Sticking Charm on its surface when he was finished using it.
Normally, he would sit across a table from the querent whose fortune he was reading, but because the desk was wedged against a wall and then enclosed by the loft bed above it, he sat awkwardly to Naomi’s right, squeezing in close to the ladder that extended from the bed. If either of them stood without backing out from under the mattress and bed frame, they’d get a nasty bump on their heads. He opened the bottom drawer on the side of the desk closest to him and unearthed a deck of cards, with a box that was significantly longer and fatter than that of normal playing cards. The cover of the box had a dirty gold background that faded into black along the edges, and in the center was an anthropomorphic moon clutching a star. All of the Major Arcana in Vasu’s deck featured moons that resembled people, wearing clothes and holding props, one edge of the crescent forming their forehead and the other their chin.
He shuffled the deck carefully and slowly, expanding his hands as far as he could to maneuver the oversized cards all at once. When finished, he extended the deck for Naomi to cut into three, and then select the pack from which he would draw. “If you can’t think of a specific question to ask, is it okay if I give you a generic life reading? Think of it like the perimeter of a puzzle, and the picture in the center is you. It’s seven cards, and they each cover a different aspect of what makes you you.”
Naomi nodded, and Vasu arranged the seven cards facedown. When he was finished, they resembled a dragonfly, with three vertical cards forming the body, and the other four cards extending to the top and sides like wings. Vasu wasn’t that accomplished at performing readings for anyone but himself. He adored the rapt attention with which Naomi studied him and the cards, as if trying to commit the whole thing to memory, but he was a little nervous that he’d not be able to make sense of a card, or get something in her reading dead wrong. She must have sensed his hesitation, because her eyes flicked up to him and she flashed him a small, encouraging smile. Naomi had something about her that made the air around her feel warm, and calm slid through Vasu’s mind like silk, like snow. It’s just like telling a story, he told himself. Like being onstage. He flipped the first card over, revealing a white horse and a black horse drawing a crowned figure in an ornate cart. The Chariot.
“This first card represents your home life, and drawing the Chariot for it means that you’ve overcome some obstacle through strength of purpose. It’s a hard-won victory and a card of action, showing that you’ve had to fight for your decisions, and ultimately you succeeded. In the case of your home, maybe it means that you moved homes a lot as a kid or have overcome displacement or poverty, but there was finally light at the end of the tunnel. And now you’ve emerged on the other side stronger for your struggles.”
Trying not to sound too corny, he cut it off there and flipped another card. “Your work and school life is represented by the Hermit. When reversed like it is now, it indicates isolation, withdrawal, and loneliness. It’s likely that you feel alienated from your peers, like you don’t fit in. But you’re also taking no steps to fit in, indicating that you’re unwilling to. Either you’re disdainful of your peers or afraid of abandonment, but there’s a carefully maintained distance between you and them.”
The third card showed a picture of a figure in a red-and-white jester costume, dancing in a fountain among leaping fish. A crescent moon hung in the background. Vasu fought the impulse to paw through his deck and check if they were properly shuffled; drawing three Major Arcana cards in a row was anomalous, to say the least. “The Fool tells me that your family is supportive of you and gives you freedom to explore yourself. They do not try to control you and encourage adventure. You’re at the beginning of a journey right now, and they see potential for you to do great things.” Vasu tried to smile as he said this, but it felt plastic. He didn’t fancy himself that good a reader, but in the event that he was right, he felt jealous of his own prediction. An accepting family was all he had ever wanted.
He cleared his throat. The next card showed a figure rowing a barge with six swords stabbing up out of the deck. “The Six of Swords describes your friendships. Like the Chariot, it’s a card about overcoming hardship, but it lacks the note of triumph of the Chariot. Swords is generally a negative suit, and the Six represents the aftermath that follows a period of grief or misfortune. It’s about moving forward and releasing baggage after a loss. In relation to your friends, maybe you’ve had a falling-out with one of them, or you’re just now getting over a death that may have happened a while ago. It still hurts to think about it, but you’re coming to terms with a wound that a friend has inflicted on you, intentionally or not.”
Vasu waved a hand over the three cards that remained facedown, which comprised the dragonfly’s thorax. “These cards are less about your relationships with others and more about your desires and future trajectory.” At Naomi’s nod, he turned over the topmost card, revealing a man in bright red-and-purple clothes dangling from a crossbar by a rope. Normally he would be hanging upside down, but since the card was reversed, he appeared to be floating, and the rope lashed around one heeled boot prevented him from traveling too far or too high. “This card sums up what you like to do. Since the Hanged Man reversed indicates indecision and reluctance to change, maybe you’re still figuring out what you like to do. It also represents investing large amounts of time with few results to show for it, so perhaps you feel as though whatever hobbies or extracurricular activities you do are meaningless. The Hanged Man reversed may also appear when you’re avoiding something. Perhaps you know that you have a bad habit but are unwilling to change it, or you’re not making enough money to support a lavish lifestyle.”
He flipped over the sixth of seven cards, revealing an upright dragon clutching a star to its scaly chest. He thought of the dragons in Care of Magical Creatures class today and stifled a shiver. “This card shows what you would like to do in the future. Usually in a career sense, but it can also be a long-term leisure activity. The Ace of Pentacles suggests new beginnings, opportunities, prosperity, and abundance. You are lucky, Naomi. Whatever you enjoy doing, you’ll be successful at, and it will make you a lot of money. The suit of Pentacles is associated with finances and materials, the physical world. If you have a far-fetched career goal—like, I dunno, professional Quidditch—stick to your guns, because you have what it takes,” Vasu said warmly. She gave a light laugh like the sweet of summer berries, and he latched onto the sound.
With a dramatic flourish, Vasu swept his hand in a wide arc before revealing the final card. Once again, he was struck by the astounding number of Major Arcana cards that had turned up in Naomi’s reading. The Major Arcana typically indicated a major issue, and their predictions were harder to overturn than those of the Minor Arcana. This card depicted gouts of fire pouring out of a crumbling tower, and a victim diving out of a window in a desperate escape attempt. However, since the card was reversed, it looked more like she was swimming upward. “Your likely outcome for the near future is represented by the Tower reversed. When upright, the Tower means external change. Something big is happening around you that you’re powerless to stop, so you have to go with it or be destroyed. But reversed, the transformation is internal. It’s a foreboding card, because the change is oftentimes involuntary. Disaster can be averted, but it requires caution and self-awareness.”
Naomi’s face scrunched a little at this. Deciding that he didn’t like seeing her so troubled, Vasu joked, “Hey now, don’t go selling your soul to get the big bucks I mentioned in the previous card, okay? It’s not worth it.” Her reading complete, Vasu sat back in his chair and promptly bumped his head on the metal ladder beside him. He jerked around to throw an icy glare at it. “Well, there you have it. The secrets of the universe, served up on a silver platter. How’d I do?”

 

[honeycoves]

Piper Katzenbach

@

piper_katzzz

• .
• .

• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  02:01

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  dark red

  
  
  
  

  steve lacy

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:18

  
  

  :

  reminder:

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  no sleeping potions.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:15

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  ouch.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Pain(TM), unfocused

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  Dining hall > Library

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Kiara WanderLust. Sigurd TobiornotTobi

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

But I'm really just a kid.

Piper whipped around to face Einar, his alarm only growing at the revelation that the Winter twins had been removed from the competition. He really wish he'd taken the older man's advice to take a moment and rest, as the speed of his own head moving made him brought back the urge to vomit. "Replaced?" He echoed and his heart plummeted. While he and Clara weren't necessarily on the best of terms— a weird, horrible breakup would do that to you— but the twins... They were, really, his only friends. When the Katzenbach reputation had crashed and burned at Durmstrang, they were the only two to even look his way. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and sticky. He could feel his fingers trembling. This couldn't be happening. Had they really been removed? Or had something happened to them, like that Mahoutokoro boy? He sunk back into his seat.

Einar did his best to comfort the teen, but he was rushed. His weighty words were falling on very, very dampened ears and he was running out of time to calm his frayed nerves. Piper blinked. He understood everything the man was saying to him, he could remember the vision... Two in two days. That was a serious uptick in seer activity for himself. He knew that the visions were coming more frequently, their accuracy rising and becoming more vivid. But they were still relatively spread out. In a flash, he was remembering the previous vision. The one that had already come true. "Professor!" He took an unsteady step towards Einar, but he was already leaving, having summoned a beautiful girl with full lips and dark hair and... Well... Sigurd.

The girl's fingers gently trailed from the bone in his cheek to his temple, just barely grazing his skin and tucking a stray piece of fringe back into place. The simple touch drew his eyes to her face, the world steadying for just a moment. She introduced herself. Her voice was soft. Not quiet or dampened, like everything had been just mere moments ago, but kind. Serene. He felt like a small bird with a broken wing, too injured to fly away, and she had come to care for him. He couldn't find his mind enough to be upset about it. Her touch beckoned his gaze, and he was taken by how pretty she was. "Um," He was struggling to reach for the words he needed, when she said she and Sigurd were headed to the library. The library? He had already been last night. He didn't really say no, though, which Kiara and Sigurd took as a yes. Before he knew it, he was on his feet.

Feeling fatigued and foggy, he did his best to follow Kiara and Sigurd down the long halls to the library. He was grateful when the trio exited the dining hall, the immediate diminish in sound relieving him. He felt a small amount of tension release from his shoulders, but still felt like he was wading through a thick mist as he moved. His movements felt stiff, and robotic, and it took a great deal of concentration to walk and listen to Kiara at the same time. He found himself mentally repeating her words in an attempt to hold onto them long enough to formulate a half-decent thought. His difficulty thinking was in misalliance with the awkwardness that usually accompanied social interaction. It didn't help that with her back to him, she was difficult to hear. He also found himself staring at Sigurd at an amount that was far too much to be considered normal.

"Uhmmm..." Piper drew out the word, the sound bringing his thoughts into a slightly clearer picture as he did his best to recall what Kiara had literally just said. "I was supposed to be in Einar's class, but I missed it." Saying that aloud nearly made him wince. He hadn't missed class ever before. Ever. He looked down at his feet to make sure they were pointed forward as he walked. "I was in the infirmary..." He trailed off. Sigurd fixed him with a look of what most would probably consider to be trepidation. While he wasn't ever close with the boy— really, what would two awkward teenagers who barely had the social skills to navigate the necessary conversations for class have to talk about?— he was familiar enough with his mannerisms. The look of disdain wasn't agitation, but rather, curiosity. "I was visiting a– um– Naomi." Naomi. Her name sent chills down his back(he was thankful for his blazer), reminding him of the conversation he had still meant to have with Einar.

He slipped quietly into a seat across from Kiara, careful not to strain too hard and start reading her book upside down from his position. She was asking them a question about the tournament. He allowed it to linger in the air for a touch too long before realizing that it was meant for him to answer. He clasped his hands in front of him, sitting stiffly but as politely as he could. "Oh... Uh.. Um.. Soon. A-and there's some sort of running.... and maybe fire. I– I think, at least." He leaned forward slightly, running his fingers through his hair, grabbing it tightly at the root for just a moment. The mental fog was already starting to lift a little with the quieter, dimmer atmosphere of the library, but he still felt slow. And a little bit like a big giant idiot. And like his head hurt. He reached for the back of his head, wondering if there was still any blood left in his hair. Kiara must think he was a big dumb oaf. And a clumsy one.

He fidgeted slightly as Kiara and Sigurd leafed through their books, gently volleying the conversation that he was now attempting to sit out of as his mind wandered elsewhere. He felt silly, sitting in a library when he couldn't read. Well. He knew how to read, obviously. But he wasn't allowed to. Lest his brain literally explode. Or... something. The concussion was still making thinking a bit more strenuous than he would have liked. Especially considering he did so much of it. He took a moment to carefully remove his hearing aids. Since he was still recovering, they were remarkably useless. Ear ringing on top of the ear ringing he already Remembering Naomi once again, he abruptly turned to Sigurd, a boy he really had never spoken to outside of class. "S-Sigurd," He started, his voice beginning quite softly. Piper almost couldn't hear himself as he looked at his own hands. "Um. You l-like Dark Arts class, right? Uh, um. Uh. D-do you know anything about possessions?" He asked, carefully raising is blue eyes to Sigurd.

Normally, he would spend this time reading and researching possessions in the wizarding world himself. But he couldn't read. And he'd ask Einar, but the man practically dashed away as soon as Piper was deemed stable enough to exist in the care of other students. Really, Piper was tired when he reflected upon how late he had been up last night and how much his head pounded now. He could put his head down on the table and nap. But there was something much more pressing to him than that stupid vision that tried to take him out. He had to solve a murder. And figure out how to exorcise whatever the hell was inhabiting Naomi.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[honeycoves]

Chitrita Pawar

@

luvchtrta

• .
• .

• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  00:42

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  liability

  
  
  
  

  lorde

  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  11:01

  
  

  :

  tournament

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  you've been promoted to champion

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  10:59

  
  

  :

  NOTIF

  
  
  

  new !

  
  

  
  
  
  

  guilt

  is eating you alive.

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  !

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Conflicted, but marginally better

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  Theo's room

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Theo WanderLust. Altair TobiornotTobi

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  details

  
  
  

  
  
  

!

details

i'm a good girl. promise.

Theo's firm touch nearly made Chitrita recoil, his tone abruptly shifting from improperly flirtatious, given his current state, to something so measured but biting. As he pushed her away, she found her heart stalling. She couldn't tell if this was some covert rejection, or if her inner feelings— feelings she had spent countless years making sure remained inwards and never materialized in her face or behavior— were truly that palpable. Her hands, and the wet towel, fell to her lap. As practiced as she was at perfect neutrality, her practice hadn't really prepared her for the crushing responsibility of this morning's events. She found herself wishing that she could slip away, back into the music room she found last night. Alone. She bit her lip tentatively, thinking to the lazy smirk he had flashed just heartbeats before. If it were a rejection, Theo was certainly sending some mixed signals.

She watched Theo with a careful eye as he rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled his way around the room. He moved with slow determination, which kept her rooted in her spot on the bed. He was intent on doing things himself. She wouldn't interfere. Once he'd reached far enough that she was sure he wouldn't need assistance, or that Altair was close enough to prevent disaster, she stood.

He was right. He didn't need her pity. She wouldn't have wanted it. She didn't even want her own in this moment. What happened was over and done with. She needed to let it go.

"If you think I ask to get my way, you're sorely mistaken." Chitrita smiled coyly, though her back was to Theo as she moved to hang up the wet towel. Truth be told, it was quite shocking for her to have escaped her first night at Ilvermorny with little more than a kiss. She considered the one she'd shared with Theo that night, backed up against a wall, his hand on her waist. The familiar warmth of someone's embrace was something she'd ruefully missed in the last semester, having had a particularly quiet summer dedicating herself to her ballet training and her studies. She retraced the idea of her fingers brushing against his forehead as she dried his hair, her touch grazing his abdomen as she removed his shirt. She thought of the possibility of the two of them, sitting on his bed, feeling something other than pity and pain.

She turned back to the boys and frowned, her dark eyes finding Altair. His presence was, unfortunately, in her way. She had a small moment of realization that it was possible she'd never get laid with him hanging around. Unless she jumped on him, which while she wasn't totally opposed, it wasn't the most appealing plan for her to get what she wanted. Usually, it was the tantalizing idea of having sex that made men fall in line and bend to her will. She needed Altair to bend, so she needed to remain in control of something he'd want, but never have. He was going to complicate things.

What was more complicated wasn't even in the room. Vasu. Her fiancé. She recalled how desperately he tried to impress her last night, with his own flirtatious remarks and attempts to show off. How he sat so close to her on the piano bench that their shoulders barely skimmed up against each other. How he blushed when he made a mistake. How he didn't want to be a stranger. How she felt, for a moment, that marrying him wasn't the worst fate in the world like she'd imagined. She should've made more of an effort to see him today. But every waking moment had been occupied by something. Finishing the rush-job of her legilimency blocker, her morning visit to the infirmary, Ito's arrival, Altair's arrival, and now Theo's incident.

Yet, there was still something endearing about Vasu. And something chemic about Theo.

She watched Theo brush passed Altair, hardly giving the other boy any notice. He had asked for context before he had gone to get the towel at her request. He must be lost. She would be too, watching the strange familiarity between herself and Theo. Things between them were just natural. She was drawn to him. "Altair, this is Theo. He's the champion for Hogwarts. He's my—" She hesitated for a millisecond. "—friend. Theo, this is Altair. He came in from Mahoutokoro this morning. He's..." She gave him a once over, taking in his appearance. She liked him in his underwear a little bit better. "My classmate. We're under strict orders to stick together." She tried to play off their attachment as a simple command by their professor, with seemingly no reason behind it.

From across the room, something glinted in Theo's hand. "What's that?" She asked, returning to the bed. She laid down on her stomach, the springy mattress bouncing under her weight, and propped her self up on her elbows. Now closer, she could see the item in his palm. It was small, round, and ornate. A pocket watch or compass by the looks of it— engraved too. "Who's 'C'?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She sank into the bed a little, allowing her arms to fold flat beneath her chin and for her head to rest comfortably to the side as she looked up at Theo. "Do you have a girlfriend in the Highlands you've conveniently forgot to mention?" She teased lightly. Though, she carefully watched Theo's face, gauging his reaction.

Did he have a girlfriend? Selfish thought, considering she actually did have a partner that she was expected to be committed to. But she was bad at committing to people. She was always committed to herself. It was why she didn't resist when Theo kissed her. It was why Odinson got hurt. It was why, despite her fear of hospitals, she spent her morning in the infirmary to intimidate a grown man she'd barely even met. She's known for a long time what kind of person she was. She tried to be at least a little bit better since her engagement. She covered her ring with her thumb. Did Vasu have a girlfriend?

She lifted her head slightly offering Altair an apologetic smile. Him, she did pity. She'd been making all the decisions for him since he'd arrived at her door. She should quit doing that. At least a little. She looked back to Theo. "Theo? Are you hungry?" She rolled to her side and pushed herself into a sitting position. Personally, she could probably go a little longer without eating. Her stomach hadn't totally settled. Maybe she could accost a house elf into making her khichdi.

♡coded by uxie♡