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Fandom Octowizard Tournament // Wizarding World // RP Thread

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  • Aurelia Quansah
    Uagadou - Female - Pure Blood - Secondary


    The smile that was already painted upon Aurellia’s lips widened as a sweet chuckle escaped her throat at Mey’s words. “Sworn enemies seems a bit overrated.” She teased back and tilted her head in a moment of playful consideration. “I think we should take the risk of being rebels and pursue a friendship instead, sounds far more fun than the stress of having an arch nemesis.” She pointed out with a fun-loving wink as the rain pelted down upon them, rolling over her skin and through her braids in a way that brought back many fond memories of stormy mornings spent on the wet sand beaches of Mauritius Island watching the white-capped waves crash against the shore. Tilting her face towards the sky for a moment she just let the heavy beads of water splatter across her skin and took a deep breath as the rivulets ran down her forehead, over her closed eyelids, across her cheeks and jaw, to race down her neck. Smiling she faced Mey again and pointed to a small booth set up to the edge of the course where fliers could easily reach to adjust the obstacles if they so desired. “What do you say my friend Mey?” She called over the rain. “Shall we see what else this course can do?” She inquired and waited to see the other girl’s face light up with curiosity and delight before angling her broom towards the booth.

    Cutting through the sky Auri held on tight as she swooped towards the booth, reeling her broom to a stop as she swiftly dismounted, the soles of her shoes hitting the soaked platform beneath her. Luckily for everyone who enjoyed the course in all weathers, the controls were magic, not electronic, so being out in the elements didn’t affect if the controls would work or wear out. Stepping to the side as Mey dismounted beside her she leaned her broom against a simple wooden broom rack and stepped towards the controls, not really caring that the platform was covered in puddles that had formed from the pouring rain. “Mey, you have to come take a look at this.” She called over to the young woman from Koldovstoretz as her onyx gaze scanned the dozens upon dozens of controls that changed different aspects and obstacles on the course. “No wonder Ilvermorny claims this as one of their greatest assets, I’ve never seen a training course with such intricacies before.” She muttered in awe as she gently brushed her hand over the smooth carved stone buttons that glowed with magic and seemed completely unaffected by the rain. As little droplets pelted down upon the device their watermarks vanished almost instantly, as though some sort of spell kept the controls in perfect condition at all times.

    Glancing over at Mey the young heiress-to-be smirked and nodded towards a button that resembled several flames. “Three guesses what that might do.” She purred playfully before turning to look around a bit more. “I wonder if they have some sort of instruction manual for this?” She muttered softly. It would be silly to trust that visitors know exactly how to handle such a machine without the risk of possibly damaging the course. Peering into a few cubbies and crates nearby all Auri was able to find were some spare bats for beaters to practice with, some flight padding, a few sets of goggles, and some candy wrappers someone shoved into the bottom of a drawer. “Huh, guess they think it's pretty self-explanatory.” She shrugged as she stood back up and met Mey’s earthy gaze which seemed to have returned to her from where the brunette had been closely studying a few of the buttons a few feet away.

    Walking back over to stand beside the shorter young woman Auri looked the controls over again. “If you give me a day or two I am sure I can find something in the library to tell us how to work it.” She offered still wanting to make certain that the two of them, two visiting students who were secondaries for their teams, didn’t end up breaking one of the prized gems of the host school. She had a feeling doing such a thing would be a bad look on them. “You can help if you’d like. No pressure though. I know libraries aren’t exactly for everyone unless they need to do a report.” She chuckled, her words warm and sweet like hot tea and honey. “But I wouldn’t mind the company.” She added wanting to make certain Mey understood how truly welcome she was to join her if she so wished.



    Mentions: Mey honeycoves honeycoves



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 
LYSSA MONTISSERO
CASTELOBRUXO SECONDARY
Nervous
Ilvermorny - Dormitories
Auguste Pyroclast Pyroclast
Click Me!
Auguste’s dorm room was exceedingly similar to Lyssa’s own room. To the left of the four pane window sat a single bed with a polished wood frame and a mattress so thin she found herself questioning if Ilvermorny was struggling with the funding to maintain proper dormitory furnishings. To the right of the window there was a bunk bed, the top bunk seemed to have been slept in already. Auguste’s roommate, whomever that might’ve been, was evidently not a very tidy person. The bed was unmade and there were dirty clothes strewn about the floor which Lyssa stepped over carefully.

She tried her best not to resemble her namesake, a quivering, wide-eyed fawn, as she entered the bedroom of a near perfect stranger. Try to make friends. She reminded herself mentally. It’ll be good for you to get out of your shell. A gentle squawking noise caused her head to snap in the direction of its source, a flush of adrenaline surging through her momentarily before she discerned it was an inky black crow perched atop the wooden wardrobe.

“Oh, you are not afraid of birds, I hope? His name is Garan, he is a friend of mine. I managed to bring him with me from France. He comes with me everywhere. You can ignore him if you want.”

A warm, unfiltered smile graced Lyssa’s features as she reached out her middle and index finger towards the bird, ruffling his feathers lightly along his neck. “I love birds.” She had admitted it without even thinking. It came out as easily as breathing, which - quite frankly - wasn’t always easy for the perpetually terrified. “Olá, Garan. Lindo pássaro.”

She was taken back to the summer of her thirteenth year. The summer she had fled her mother’s home in San Jose, when her father had brought her back to the penthouse in Rio. She barely left her bed for months, all she had been able to bring herself to do was watch the native birds fly outside her bedroom window. She remembered counting how many of each color she saw per day. Three blue macaws on Tuesday, two yellow parakeets on Thursday.

“Sit.”

Lyssa did as she was bid, seating herself rigidly on the single bed to the left next to Auguste’s suitcase as he withdrew a small, blue bottle from a cloth pouch. Lyssa tilted her head, trying to read whatever was scribbled on the label but once again found herself unable to translate french.

“May I?”

Auguste had wetted a small cloth with the contents of the blue bottle and was gesturing towards Lyssa’s arms. It took her a moment to register what exactly he was asking permission to do. With a whispered “Oh-” and the faintest hint of a blush rising to her cheeks, Lyssa gingerly rolled up the crimson stained sleeves of her cream colored top, wincing slightly as she did so.

The scrapes on her elbows were no longer actively bleeding, but they were still sore to the touch. The flesh painted angry hues of red and purple where they were beginning to bruise from the violent impact.

“I am not good at potions, but this one is just herbology. I get quite good at making it, because it is so easy - you make a powder of dittany leaf and then add salty water, et voilà, you have healing potion! It cleanses and heals, and also reduces scars.”

Lyssa’s honeyed amber gaze momentarily flicked up to meet Auguste’s at the mention of herbology. She had become accustomed to her peers thinking rather lowly of the subject, describing it as boring and lackluster. Was it possible that Auguste, like her, fostered the same admiration for the wizarding world's flora and fauna? She was so enamored by the possibility that she didn’t even notice the way the injuries on her elbows had miraculously disappeared, leaving in their place only smooth, pale skin.

“Thank you…” her gaze lingered for a moment longer, perhaps a moment too long. “Uh, Merci.” She tried again, using her limited french vocabulary with a sheepish smile.

Without missing a beat, Auguste went on to answer her earlier question. Describing in great detail the small town in the Pyrenees where he had grown up. Lyssa listened intently, curious about the potatoes grown in his town, one of Lyssa’s very favorite dishes was twice baked potato soup.

“I love it, but…don’t go to Urepel.” His laugh was light and airy. “It is not fun to visit. Beauxbatons is in the Pyrenees also, but it is a grand château, a big white palace. We wear uniform the colour of summer sky. It is all very…strange to me. I grew up comme un moldu…uh…a muggle…so I only start to learn magic from two years until now. The life at Beauxbatons is strange, but maybe not more strange than at Ilvermorny, or Castel…Castelbruja?”

“Castelobruxo.” She answered softly, chewing on her lower lip as she did so. “I’m muggle born as well,” there was a strained pause, as if Lyssa were debating whether or not she should disclose more on her parentage.

Seemingly satisfied with the state of Lyssa’s healed injuries, Auguste made note of his handiwork. “Tac tac tac…et voilà! As if by magic!” She responded with a soft, bittersweet laugh. “As if.” she repeated, raising one eyebrow as she did so. There was something soothing about Auguste’s presence, something that made her heart beat slower and her breathing come easier. She wished she was able to go about her day with the same ease that he projected.

Auguste went on to claim that he talked too much about himself, and though Lyssa had been about to tell him that she quite liked hearing about his life, he raised a poignant truth. They were opponents in an extremely competitive tournament. Was it really the best idea for them to become so friendly with one another?

“So…will you tell me more about you, and your life in Portugal? I’m certain it will be more interesting than my life with potatoes.”

Lyssa hesitated. Was there truly anything about her life that was more interesting than Auguste’s potatoes? Perhaps… but only the worst parts of it. The parts she didn’t want to disclose, not to her father, not to anyone, especially not a handsome stranger.

“Oh…unless you want to go and change your pull?”

“Yes, actually.” She tried not to audibly breathe a sigh of relief at the escape route Auguste had offered her. This was enough socializing for one day. “I should probably change before someone sees me and starts asking questions.” She rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt with the palms of her hands as she did so. “Obrigado. Thank you… for your help, Auguste.”

She offered him a sweet smile before taking her leave and heading back towards her dorm to change out of her bloodied sweater.
 


















Chitrita Pawar



@
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  • 00:42






    liability



    lorde










    11:01

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    new !




    you've been promoted to champion







    10:59

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    new !




    guilt
    is eating you alive.










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!




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i'm a good girl. promise.



When Theo returned her advances, something twisted in Chitrita's stomach. Something that told her this was wrong. And not in the deliciously fun way she so often enjoyed. She loved doing the wrong thing, the heart-pounding thrill of doing something enticingly dishonest. Lying, breaking the rules, cheating. It was all familiar game to her. So why was this different? She'd messed around behind boyfriends' backs before. What was the harm of keeping Theo for herself while she was with Vasu? Did he really have to know? She had never had a fiancé before. Was that really the difference? A title? Or perhaps, it was because she knew her future was dangerously entangled in that boy. With their impending marriage, a misstep early could set things off in a bad tone for the rest of her life. Really, she couldn't trust herself to be covert enough to skirt Vasu's suspicion. She had never cared before if a boyfriend got suspicious, but she certainly did now. Yet here she was, brazenly flirting with Theo in front of a witness she knew could not be trusted to shut his trap.
Really, going to lunch and escaping this tiny hell she had inadvertently created was the much more appealing option than remaining here, on this bed. The bed shook with enough force to nearly coerce a reaction out of her. The alarm that echoed through her body attempted to show on her face, but the perfectly practiced expression of neutrality hardly budged. Instead, she rose to her feet, mentally brushing off Theo's temper as she physically straightened out her prim, pink uniform. She cleared her throat to beckon Altair's attention and offered him a bright, sunny smile. "Ready?" His cheery disposition seemed unchanged given the blatant unfriendliness he'd been greeted with, hopping up and tossing around his dice without much care. His happiness was almost infectious. Almost.

She shrugged at his question, mulling it over. She hadn't spent much time really speaking to anyone at all to decide if anyone really was note worthy. She had refused to peaceably converse with any of the boys on her dance card, and the conversations she had with Theo and Vasu last night were arguably short. She had seen Kiara Sinclaire in action, a young woman who moved purposefully and gracefully and showed great potential in charms. She really had only talked to a handful of professors since her arrival, and primarily Cha-Cha at that. She resisted the urge to glower at the thought of that man. "Not really, most of the students have been fairly dull," She rolled her eyes slightly, recalling that dreadful dance where her poor toes had been stomped to death. "So far I've only really met Theo and the Koldovstoretz champion." She left out Vasu's name and their connection. She felt like she was protecting something. Like Vasu's name was not meant to be shared, but rather hers to keep.

This time Chitrita couldn't hide her scowl. What is with these idiot boys and their incessant need to gamble? She thought, recalling Vasu's proposal for a betting game just the night before. This game seemed absolutely ridiculous, guessing the numbers of dice that large was beyond improbable. She was about ready to dismiss him with a wave of her hand— really, this boy needed to study anyway if he was going to keep up in this study track— when something caught her ear. Prize money. Prize money. Prize money! Chitrita was a champion now, just as she wished, which meant there was monetary gain on the line. Money that could help the family business. Money where a portion could be tucked away for her own future, if she needed. Money that might equal a freedom to make her own choices. She simpered, suddenly feeling much more amenable to Altair's proposition. Really, the chances of him guessing were only... less than .5%. She liked those odds.

"Fine," She agreed, folding her arms across her chest. "But!" She leveled a stern gaze. "We have to study tomorrow. We're not going to win if we aren't prepared." Altair excitedly called out his guess, jostled the dice, and released them out onto the floor at her feet. She quickly dropped into a low squat, prepared to examine them as they fell. Her brows knit together. 13 and 17... In the exact order Altair had predicted. "No way!" She protested, snatching the dice in her hands and rising. .5%, that was nearly unachievable on its own. But guessing the correct order? That brought Altair's chances down to a quarter of a percent. There was no way he was that lucky. That was supernatural. "These dice are weighted!" She accused with a glare. "Layla, if you tricked me into playing a fixed game—" A door opened across from them, making her painfully aware of how dramatic she was being. She glanced at the girl who had just emerged, pink-haired and absurdly dressed, and leaned in closely to Altair, slapping his dice into his hand. "You totally cheated and I know it." She whispered. She turned, prepared to march down the hall after Theo, when a second figure emerged.

"Vasu!" She greeted, a song-like tone to her voice. Leaving is room with a girl? Perhaps she would've been right to seek a physical connection to Theo. Chitrita was smiling. It was so effortless it should've looked genuine. She withdrew her hand from Altair's, their trade of dice over. Something shimmered in her chest. She felt wronged in this moment. She felt like she should be embarrassed by witnessing him in this girl together, like she should look as mortified as Vasu looked. But she knew this moment was a precarious balancing act. Altair needed to know the smiling, sweet school girl whose reputation as a brainiac was her most defining feature. Vasu needed to see her as a strong, confident figure that he should fear. While those weren't mutually exclusive, meeting in the middle might discredit the persona of the other. She placed one hand on Altair's shoulder, leaning in closely and cupping her mouth with the other. "That's the Koldovstoretz boy I was telling you about." She whispered with a cheeky smile, keeping her dark eyes trained on Vasu.

"Altair, I'd like you to meet Vasu." She said aloud to the group, gesturing from one boy to the other. "Vasu, this is Altair. They sent him here Mahoutokoro this morning to help me with the tournament." She stole a glance Theo, whose back was now retreating down the stairs and out of sight. She felt a small surge of relief. Thank god she didn't have to deal with all three of her boys at the same time. Her boys. The phrase was a funny thought, but really, she couldn't argue that it was untrue. Her fiancé. Her bodyguard. Her... friend. That word just felt unnatural. Perhaps Vasu felt the same about his friend. "Are you gonna introduce us to your friend?" She asked, her tone teetering the line of pure innocence and a thickly veiled threat. Her smile was unwavering. She reached out for the handshake. "I know there were those fancy introductions last night, but I was just so nervous I couldn't focus—" Lie. "You're from Beauxbatons, right? All of you Beauxbatons students are so pretty. I'm Chitrita." Vasu's fiancée. She wanted to add it, but somehow this felt like she was keeping Vasu under her thumb.

She looked to Altair and then back to the unwelcome duo. "Altair and I were just about to go get some lunch with a friend if you two would like to join?" She invited with an earnest eyebrow raise. She allowed a pause to hang in the air for a second, then pretended to read some sort of hesitation or discomfort between Vasu and the pink-haired girl. She hoped they were uncomfortable. "Oh, please don't let us interrupt you. If you had other plans or something more important to attend to—" She vaguely gestured at the girl's hospital-chic get-up, "—I swear we're not offended." She prayed that they felt ensnared by an obligation to join and were torturing themselves with the decision to stay or go. "Here, we'll walk you down regardless." She started towards the stairs, trio in tow.

"Theo!" She called ahead, nearly smirking. "Do you mind if Vasu and his friend join us?" Emboldened by her own scheme, she now felt confident enough to marry her quartet together(ugh, okay quintet if she had to include pink-haired girl, but Chitrita was confident her addition would be short-lived).








♡coded by uxie♡


 
OIP.GA6UeJ4BwnCTwO1nKmjtdAHaJ3


Sigurd Berg
Ilvermorny Library
"...Of course it was a hardcover."​

Despite being in his natural habitat, Sigurd's mind was not at ease. Something had happened that resulted in Piper's injury and he had questions of his own to ask of his classmate. Was this a natural affliction? Or could it perhaps be the product of sabotage by a rival school? If worst came to worst and Piper's episode was caused by another person, then this wouldn't be the last of Sigurd's troubles regarding the subject. Clara Winter's removal and Cosmo's departure meant that as of early this morning, Piper was the sole member of the Durmstrang team. If this information was discovered by an unsavory type, then the final piece of the puzzle to topple the Scandinavian wizarding school would be to take his classmate out of the picture as well. And now that Sigurd had been selected to replace Clara, could this mean that he was now squarely in the crosshairs of this antagonist? The theory had wings, but further investigation was required. Sigurd has just finished asking the first of many questions he needed answers to when his eyes were spared little time to notice a green blur in their peripheral view. Moments later, a sharp pain flared up from his shoulder. As his hand instinctively moved to the point of impact and rubbed it, Sigurd changed the target of his gaze from Piper to Kiara across the table. The French student had a look of disdain on her face that wasn't present until he had opened his mouth. It took little critical thinking to determine who had repurposed their book into a blunt weapon. The Norwegian winced in pain and took her in, dumbfounded by her attack.

This newfound 'friend' of his was a walking contradiction. Clumsy, yet focused and far from air-headed. He bore witness to that in History of Magic. Compassionate and a staunch defender, but also a piercing øks to whoever drew her ire. Sigurd saw both sides of her as they made their way to the library. The trip to the library, and that hooligan in the dining hall. Sharp as a whip, but headstrong and volatile. And as Sigurd recovered from the sting of said whip, his voice returned to him at last. Gradually, he straightened up and mirrored her stare of dissatisfaction. After her assurance to Piper that he didn't have to talk about the incident, Sigurd shelved away his shock and attempted to restore his poker face. The task proved difficult, however. Ultimately, his impatience for answers and embarrassment at being reprimanded like a disobedient pet prompted Sigurd to pinch his forehead. The pain at least served to temper his tone. "I think Piper is more than capable of expressing what he does and doesn't want to do."

Proving his point, the taller boy's silence determined that Sigurd would have to address the situation at a later date. Meanwhile, whoever was responsible would have a chance to reload and reassess. If there is anyone, Sigurd strained to correct himself. His upbringing and training from Father taught him that paranoia was healthy in moderate doses. But common sense dictated that he considers all options before casting judgement. Changing the subject, the Durmstrang champion tuned in to Kiara's answer as to why she took such a physical approach to the bully. The first thing he noticed was her prompt and immediate response. His opinion was unchanged since the incident. It was not well thought out, it was careless, it was foolish, . One should keep their emotions in check as to not overextend and display their hand. Father taught him as much, although sometimes he strayed away from his own advice. But while his condemnation was unwavering, so was the small part of him impressed by her swift action and altruistic answer. It was something he would never do, as there was too much at stake to risk fighting for somebody else. But he could admire it, even as said admiration was currently wrestling with his annoyance at being hit by a book.

Right before he could begin to ponder where his opinion truly stood with Kiara Sinclaire, Piper took the opportunity to once more prove exactly why he was an excellent choice as a secondary. He was privy to a meeting of the professors? Where not only did he learn of the first challenge, but memorized an entire riddle? This was just what Sigurd needed, a lightning rod to tack his focus to. The path to victory just became very clear. A book on general athleticism would offer tips and techniques on maintaining his endurance. And although obstacle course screamed physical ability, there was no doubt that there would be a magical element in the mix. And he might not be ready at the moment, but Sigurd knew for a fact that he was sitting next to the perfect training partner. A good night's rest would clear any lingering symptoms, then they could get to work honing the charms he would need to secure an early win.

Sigurd's elevated mood was dampened at Piper's curtness after he responded to his question about possessions. Had he offended him at some point? Perhaps he had been too hasty in searching for answers. It hadn't even been a full hour since the traumatic experience. Professor Einar directed him and Kiara to be there for the only other remaining Scandinavian student. Sigurd turned to face him, breathing and thinking heavily. The way his voice lost the power behind it after Clara, perhaps it was sadness over losing a familiar face. No. That wasn't it, couldn't be it. Piper was grown and talented enough to be here for the tournament. He should be dealt with at a higher standard. He was cleared by the nurses, so that should be enough to treat him as normal. And as for his woes over losing his two friends, Durmstrang's new champion was the one who needed support. Sigurd needed the know, because knowledge was going to be his guiding light in this mission of his. His mission of restoring his family name and redeeming Father. Running a hand over his mouth, Sigurd questioned himself as to why he was going over this while having so much work before him. Sigurd was about to step away from the table and begin his search for reading material when Piper followed up with a more apt description of what he wanted. Every fiber of his being wanted to set to work advancing his own goals, but he owed Piper his attention. Without his information, Sigurd would never have gotten this edge over the other competitors.

"Other creatures that can possess wizards? Well, Ghosts for starters. There are also other spirits who can, such as a poltergeist. Those are the ones I know off the top of my head." Piper spent little time processing the answer before following up with another. And before he could talk about the Imperius curse, Piper went into even more detail. Sigurd nodded along and listened closely, wracking his mind for a dark creature that better fit his description. One that took over your mind temporarily, but seized full control and left you with no memory afterwards? One obvious choice popped into his mind. While thinking of others, Sigurd couldn't help but notice Piper's body language. It was more contained, and the other boy was getting very close to him as he spoke. Feeling something under the table, Sigurd made eye contact with Piper as their knees touched. What was going on here? Was this more than just idle reading? Sigurd abruptly rose to his feet, partially because he knew what he could do next and because the sudden close proximity to Piper unnerved him. This feeling was new, and something to be explored later. "I think I know what you're talking about. Excuse me a moment." With the long strides of a man on a mission, Sigurd walked away from the table and to the nearest library aid, asking her about where books on creatures were kept. It didn't take long for Sigurd to make a selection and return to the table. Taking a seat, he slid the book between himself and Piper. The Encyclopedia of Dark Creatures was a medium-sized black book with red stripes running along it vertically. Sigurd turned to the first page, which was reserved for a large, dark blue snake. The Basilisk. "I was thinking a werewolf fit your description the best, despite the lycanthrope being aware of what's inside them. But if you remember what your mystery creature looks like, we can flip through the pages."
 
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THE SPELLCRAFTER.






























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Vasu






Saini








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MOOD








Simping Hardcore.























OUTFIT








Blending with Ilvermorny. Signet Ring.























LOCATION








Outside Dorms; Dining Hall.

























MENTIONS








Darweshi





















INTERACTS








Chitrita honeycoves honeycoves Naomi Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1 Theo WanderLust. WanderLust. Altair TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi





































NIGHT —
ZOLA JESUS.

































































































































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'Cause everyone in the back room's








Spinning up
Don't remember what you're asking for
And everyone in the front room's
Tripping out.





























































EVE OF THE FIRST CHALLENGE.


Vasu felt as if he’d looked up to find a speeding car headed straight for him. A very pink and imperious car, with two boys decked out in the backseat. It was his first look at Chitrita Pawar in her Mahouokoro uniform, and Vasu’s shock quickly gave way to curiosity. A desire to do a full-circle inspection and admire the glossy paint job, the plush leather interior, and check under the hood. Her plaid skirt ended a few coy inches above her knees, and a bow that looked like it could be undone with one expert tug held the neck of her blouse closed. Adding to his hopes was the delight that suffused her voice when she called out to him, the bright smile that overtook her face. His enchanted coin had predicted a run-in with Chitrita today, but he’d expected to be met with the cold, dismissive beauty from last night in the music room, the marble statue chipped into perfection that didn’t spare him a glance. It crossed his mind that perhaps she was just putting on a show for her audience—that latching onto him was a necessary strategy to escape the company of losers—but the thought evaporated beneath the warmth of her caramel gaze. No girl had looked at him like that since Anzhelina in their first year, and Vasu found a strange hunger clawing his belly for such attention again.

He flushed with a peculiar heat, as if a spotlight on stage were suddenly trained on him. Emboldened by her familiarity, he cooed, “Hullo to you too, dilruba.” It was a common pet name in Hindi that could be used like darling, but it literally meant “heart-stealer.” He wanted to see how she reacted to a term of endearment that evaded the understanding of the foreigners, just in case it backfired on him. But instead of playing his game, Chitrita was playing her own. She turned to one of the boys flanking her, whom Vasu recognized from Care for Magical Creatures class but whose name he hadn’t gotten. Her dark eyes were fastened on this newcomer as she breathed some secret knowledge into his ear, and twin spikes of suspicion and jealousy shot through Vasu. Suspicion that she was bad-mouthing him, because it was obvious that he was the subject of the whisper. Jealousy that it wasn’t his hair that her breath was stirring in intimate proximity.

Chitrita quickly drew away, and as if it had never happened, she made introductions between the two boys vying for her attention, whether or not both of them were aware of it. But it wasn’t the other boy’s name that Vasu focused on. It was the several questions that rose up in him when Chitrita glossed over his presence here. Namely, that this Altair had been sent this morning from Mahoutokoro to help her. All of the competitors had arrived last night for the Opening Ceremony. What, had Altair missed the train from Grand Central because he’d left his clothes at the laundromat? And helping Chitrita was a very self-important way to view the relationship between two secondaries; the Jolly White Giant was Mahoutokoro’s champion. Such a fact was hard to miss when it was roughly sixteen feet tall.

“What do you mean, ‘help you’? Like, carry your books while you walk?” Vasu guessed, at a loss for a logical explanation. Had Aditi failed to disclose to him that Chitrita was an invalid of some kind? That did seem like something his grandmother would do. Vasu’s gaze transferred to Altair, scrutinizing this new variable that didn’t add up, yet he continued to speak about the other boy in the third person. “And why didn’t he get here with all of the other—”

Chitrita rapidly changed the subject, letting his questions dangle. Vasu narrowed his eyes on her. She clearly didn’t want to discuss the details publicly, but she was a fool if she thought he could be so easily distracted. He decided to respect her wishes and not press her for information. For now, at least, until they were in private. With a little tension in his posture that hadn’t been there a moment ago, he clasped his hands in front of him and reluctantly let the subject drop.

As if sensing the mood change, Chitrita’s other chaperone—whom Vasu belatedly realized was Theo, so fixated had he been on this feminine center of his universe—turned away from the group and slunk down the hall without a word. His movements looked stiff, almost fragile, and he was cradling one arm to his chest. Vasu wondered if it was part of the reason for his sullen silence and departure.

Chitrita was staring at him with a sickly-sweet insistence, her smile so wide that it looked like if it spread any further her face would crack. Vasu wondered if she was always this dialed up at social functions. It was behavior that he was used to from sycophants who would throw themselves at his family’s feet just for a chance to breathe the same air as Shiva’s descendants, yet it felt almost eerie coming from her.

Not wanting to commit a lapse in etiquette in front of his competitors, Vasu took a neat step to the side so that he could gesture at Naomi. His back had been to her this whole time, as if she was a toy that had been forgotten in favor of something with more buttons and lights and sounds. “Well, I consider her more of a rival than a friend, but this is Naomi De Vries of House Papillonlisse at Beauxbatons.” He indicated the girl in question with a sweeping gesture, yet he was still speaking to Chitrita. “Two years ago we faced each other in the International Quidditch Cup,” he continued self-importantly, failing to mention that Naomi’s team had won that competition.

Any word that Naomi might have tried to get in edgewise was drowned out by Chitrita’s fawning rambles. A goddess like Chitrita calling another girl—especially one dressed in a hospital gown at the moment—pretty felt like pity, and Vasu wondered if she was talking down to Naomi. He fought down a vicious smile as he observed their very one-sided exchange. Naomi was cute, but she was strange, and Vasu felt more put-together than her when he showed up to class hungover with his uniform rumpled and a throat scoured from a night of vomiting. She just couldn’t compete with the pureblood snake pit, as his father had once called Aditi’s provocatively impressive social circles.

To his surprise, Chitrita invited them to lunch. One of Vasu’s eyebrows inched up his forehead. Wasn’t she apprehensive of how a Muggleborn misfit might damage her image? Or was this supposed to be a set-up of some kind? Vasu imagined Chitrita with her feet kicked up on a pillow of peacock feathers like a Roman empress while she fed Naomi scraps under the table.

“We would love to join,” he said quickly, not giving Naomi any time to refuse. Of course, we was a substitute for I in this statement. “Thank you for the invitation. My next class isn’t until three, and I can’t think of a better way that I would rather utilize the time in between.”

As if she hadn’t heard him, Chitrita went on to assure them that it was perfectly fine if they had other priorities. Vasu couldn’t tell whether she was considerately giving them an excuse to decline or if she was somehow taunting him, dropping the old it’s okay, I’m just your worthless fiancée; what right do I have to infringe on your time? line. Not that it mattered, though. Chitrita would always come first in Vasu’s book. She was special, and she deserved a man who would treat her as such. He would assuage any insecurities she had to the contrary.

The matter settled, Chitrita spun and flounced away, presumably hurrying to catch up with Theo. Secretly, this development excited Vasu; he wouldn’t admit it, but Theo’s too-cool-for-school attitude was intoxicating. The Hogwarts champion was part of the crowd that Vasu wanted to associate himself with when his usual huddle of Koldovstoretz delinquents was unavailable to him. After all, he had completed a dare at Theo’s request last night. Now it was Theo’s turn, and Vasu always collected what he was owed. He could already tell that Theo would be one of his fiercest competitors amid the tournament, and any moment that he could spend in Theo’s presence to learn his tells, his insecurities, the chinks in his armor, would be a valuable asset in the arena.

It was pushing two when they arrived at the dining hall, and one of the House Elf attendants paused in the act of wiping a table to throw the party of five a glare. The hours of operation were posted on a pane of glass outside the cafeteria, and Vasu assumed the elf’s inhospitality had to do with the fact that they closed for lunch in thirteen minutes. Most of the food stations were picked through by the time of their late arrival, but he pounced greedily on a mostly intact vat of pesto-covered salmon, heaping a generous portion onto his plate.

The only other salvageable goods were a cucumber dish with some kind of fried topping sprinkled on it, cubes of gone-cold beef with caramelized onions in brown sauce, and crispy-looking chunks of potato. Vasu made a face at the potatoes. After his father’s death and the subsequent dwindling of his family’s finances, potatoes and lentils had made appearances at the dinner table more often than not, because they were cheap and could be bought in high quantities without the fear of going bad. If he never had a potato or lentil again in his life, he could die happily. He settled for the cucumbers, because unlike the beef, the dish lost nothing by being cold. Plus he didn’t want it getting back to Aditi that he was committing pataka, or sin by eating the sacred cow. Knowledge that he wasn’t sure he could trust Chitrita not to share.

From the meager offerings at the bakery stand, he took a partly crumbled cookie with a gooey, rich chocolatey center. It was the candy-cane sprinkles that sold him, and when he shamelessly bit into it ahead of the more nutritious parts of his meal, they provided a delightful crunch. Take that, Nyache, he thought spitefully. This mass-produced American shit is better than your feeble attempts at bribery. The group had seated themselves at a round table with seven chairs by the entrance. Most of the tables already had chairs neatly stacked atop them in preparation of closing time, and the elven waitstaff was shifting restlessly from foot to foot as they watched the last-minute diners with nothing left to do until they departed. A hesitant silence hung over their table; none of the virtual strangers seemed to know how or care to engage the others in conversation.

Vasu let his gaze travel to Theo, who seemed very intent on his meal. He was pointedly eating with only one hand. “How was class, Theo?” Vasu opened blandly. The other boy didn’t respond, and when the silence wore on him, Vasu continued, “From the way you’re babying that arm, I’d guess the dragon unleashed in Care of Magical Creatures today took a swing at you, but you weren’t there. I hope it doesn’t inhibit your performance in the first challenge.” Wearing a snide smile, he licked a dab of chocolate off his fingertip. Vasu picked up his fork and began to toy with the salmon, pulling it apart on his plate. “Whatever was so important that you missed your first class of the school year?”



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 
Angelique Chimere
Professor
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Angel just wanted to leave everything was going chaotic with everybody either being angry, upset, trying to be calm. Just everyone seemed to be doing something and none of it seemed to be productive. Not with so many different types of personalities within the room. She felt her anger boiling under the surface again and slightly shifted in the chair being extremely tired wasn’t helping. When she felt eyes on her once more she swiftly covered her arm which had been exposed for a moment the large bite marks covered again. She took a steady breath just letting the chaos happen around her while she regained her composure. She would say her piece, then get out of there to check on her student again. She was worried about him especially since well it seemed he had damaged his own mind with a spell. Angel's teeth sank lightly into her own plump bottom lip as her mind worked on how she might be able to help her student. If only she had been a little faster. He had been freaking out to her about having seen something then it seemed it had triggered his old memories of his parent(s) death. His wand had raised and before she could even raise her own to stop him he had used obliviate on himself.

Once things seemed to settle down a little she cleared her own throat shifting lightly so her outer thigh brushed against Bellamy’s. “I would like to apologize for my curt response to the loss of other students. I’m dealing with the mess of my own and I’ll admit it has me rather on edge especially with now knowing that murder seems to be happening before the games have even begun. However that doesn’t excuse my tone or how I snapped in my own frustration. The loss of anyone’s life is a sad occurrence and for that I am sorry.”she said her tone softer now with genuine concern in it. She swallowed before continuing.”My student witnessed something. I’m not sure what but it set him into such a panic that he… he used a spell on himself. That’s why he’s now unable to join in the tournament. He’s currently with a healer and healers from our own school have been called so that they can work with him.”she said finally to everyone her gaze calm but one of her hands seems to be quivering a little bit.


She let that info sink in before listening to the rest of what was happening. She wasn’t sure why everything was going to shit already before the tournament had already started but it seemed like these students were about to have a terrible time. Angel took a sip of her coffee. She found it to still be warm and her gaze softened seeing that Bellamy had warmed it back up for her with a spell.



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THEODORE WEST
HOGWARTS CHAMPION
Aggressive
Ilvermorny Dining Hall
Rita, Altair, Naomi but mostly Vasu Aviator Aviator
Click Me
“Theo!”

Rita’s song-like call was the first real indication he had that she and Altair were still somewhat in tow. He halted momentarily, like a guard dog called to attention, only halfway glancing over his shoulder to set eyes upon the fast growing group of friends Rita was collecting, each one more unsavory than the last.

“Do you mind if Vasu and his friend join us?”

His molten gaze dragged over the aforementioned friend, with pastel colored locks, a paper thin hospital robe and a vacant expression fixed on her otherwise perfectly acceptable features. Theo paused, almost as though he were listening, waiting to hear a pin drop, silently testing the waters to see if his occlumency skills were up to par. Either hospital gown girl had not a single thought in that pretty little head of hers, or Theo had managed to momentarily patch any holes in his mental walls. He prayed it was the latter.

And then there was Vasu, the bristling little alley cat who liked to play with snakes. Theo had yet to establish a formal opinion on that one. If nothing else, the events of the night prior had been enough to rank Vasu amongst the select few champions being considered as potential allies. He had demonstrated enough gall to rob a crippled auror of his cane in front of multiple witnesses, an impressive gamble, though Theo had yet to determine if it was truly bravery or an obsessive need for peer approval that had driven Vasu’s actions.

“Picking up strays, Rita?” His tone was blunt, borderline dismissive, and didn’t answer the question asked of him. He wasn’t naive enough to think Chitrita was truly asking for his permission to bring along her motley crew. But he had no intentions of welcoming the new additions with open arms. Rather, he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval before resuming his journey towards the dining hall.

When they arrived at the near vacant cafeteria, Theo became acutely aware of the glowering house elves who were busying themselves attempting to wipe down the tables and clear away the last of the food. Their annoyance at the arrival of stragglers was thinly veiled at best. One particularly vocal elf even went so far as to grumble something under his breath about entitled purebloods. Theo halted, shifting his leer towards the aforementioned elf. Who did he think he was? And what could he claim to know of the blood status of any of Theo’s present company? Suddenly realizing that he had garnered Theo’s attention, the crotchety little house elf let out a pathetic, half whimper and went skittering in the opposite direction.

With a low huff, Theo turned his sights towards the remnants of food that were laid out along the buffet. The pickings were slim, but ultimately he decided to fill his plate with the leftover beef and potatoes. The brown sauce it was coated in had long since gone cold, but that was easily remedied with a flick of Theo’s wand. “Focillo” the warming charm came in handy more frequently than Theo would care to admit. Who needed a microwave when you were born with the ability to harness magic?

The pain in his arm was still present, a subtle reminder of the fact that it had nearly been severed from the rest of his body, but it was surprisingly manageable. He didn’t know if that spoke to his pain tolerance or the power of whatever Arif and Bellamy had used to facilitate the healing. Still, he was clearly favoring his left arm as he sauntered over to the round table where Chitrita and Altair had already begun picking at their chosen meals. Theo sat himself on Rita’s left, flanking her between himself and Altair. There was a certain smugness that arose in him at the realization that Vasu wouldn’t have the chance to sit next to the evident object of his affection, though Theo didn’t let that smugness show on his face.

“How was class, Theo?”

God, Vasu reminded him of his mother. Incessantly pestering with a disparaging tone that grated against Theo’s ear drums like nails on a chalkboard. What did Saini care how Theo’s first class had gone? The answer was clear, he didn’t. So what was he playing at? Theo chewed slowly, not dignifying the other boy's bothersome inquiries with a response. Evidently, his silence didn’t sit well with Vasu, as the little alley cat began to squirm in his seat as though he simply couldn’t contain himself.

“From the way you’re babying that arm, I’d guess the dragon unleashed in Care of Magical Creatures today took a swing at you, but you weren’t there. I hope it doesn’t inhibit your performance in the first challenge.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the outer corners of Theo’s lips. Vasu had so carelessly laid his cards on the table like an amateur poker player operating under the assumption that he had the nuts in his hand. In doing so he had revealed two things, the first: Vasu had been watching Theo like a hawk, intently enough to realize that Theo was favoring one arm over the other. The second followed suit from the first: Vasu was threatened by Theo, rightly so, but still - why make it so obvious? What other possible motivation could Vasu have for targeting Theo with his antics?

“Whatever was so important that you missed your first class of the school year?”

Leaning back in his chair, Theo did a quick survey of the people sitting at the table. Chitrita, Altair, Vasu and Vasu’s unnamed friend. Rita was supposed to be in History of Magic this morning, however, when Theo had gone to check on her before class, she had not been present. When introducing Altair, Rita had stated that her self-proclaimed bodyguard had arrived that morning, making his attendance in class doubtful, but not guaranteed. Vasu had just made it abundantly clear that he had been present in Care of Magical Creatures, and judging by her hospital gown, Vasu’s friend had been in the infirmary this morning in lieu of class. There was a fair chance he’d be able to convince his companions that he’d been in History of Magic rather than Care of Magical Creatures, but it was a gamble he wasn’t willing to make.

He met Vasu’s cheshire grin with a subtle smirk of his own. “I’m flattered by your investment in my academic achievement Saini, but first day is syllabus day, which - let’s be honest - is a waste of everyone’s time.” The melodic noise of a couple unrestrained snickers to his right was enough to tell Theo that he was quickly gaining the upper hand, but he remained tempered as he continued. This next part needed to be quick, off handed, just enough to garner Saini’s attention without giving the impression that he needed or wanted it. “My time was better spent in a private lesson with Professor Arif.”

The nuts.

Vasu’s skirmish with Chahaya the evening of the opening ceremony had been enough to enlighten Theo as to his brazen distaste for the Castelobruxo professor. Why that was the case, Theo had yet to decipher. Perhaps it was for the same reason that Theo himself didn’t take too kindly to the notorious legilimens. Whatever the reason, Vasu’s aversion to Arif only served Theo further here. Theo was secure in the assumption that, if pressed on the matter, Chahaya Arif would act in self-preservation and confirm Theo’s recount of the day’s events. A private lesson was much more palatable than the reality that the professor had taken an underage student out for drinks and then subsequently splinched him on the way home, and it served to create the illusion that Theo was receiving preferential treatment and was therefore twice the threat. Pocket aces.

Which only left the issue of his wounded arm. A mild annoyance that Vasu had spotted it to begin with. Theo didn’t take kindly to any chinks in his armor being noted, let alone broadcast for the world to see. Leaning forward, he spoke slowly, deliberately, “As for my arm, it’s an old quidditch injury.” A blatant lie, but he wasn’t expecting to pass it off as truth. Rita and Altair already knew more than Theo would’ve preferred. This was just his thinly veiled way of telling Vasu to piss off. “Acts up when it rains like this. Say, Vasu,” he spoke the other boy's name like it was inherently insulting, “why don’t you tell us more about that big, scary dragon you saw in class today?”
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Darweshi Nyache​

Room 220​

"Is he reading my mind right now? I bet he's reading my mind right now!"​
Upon hearing Headmaster Bakshi's concerned words, Darweshi raised his red cup in his direction. The Uagadou professor was feeling a hundred percent better after his near-death experience. He just knew Engai had so much more for him to do on this Earth before he passed on. Like eating these delicious sliders he still had on his plate! Darweshi had heard many things about America. Legends told of a castle that served the most delicious miniature burgers. Were these tales alluding to Ilvermorny all along? Was the North American wizarding school the 'White Castle' he had heard so much about? Bakshi's detailing of Ilvermorny's defensive measures helped the fries go down much better than before. If the killer slipped up, the stratagem would allow the authorities to come in fast and hard. Darweshi tuned in as Professor Arif levied his assistance as well, offering to perform some sort of interrogation that would garner information without Naomi's knowledge. Right before he could internally commend the upcoming shift in the room from accusation to collaboration, Bakshi gave a response that had a double meaning, and it didn't take a a genius to see that. Arif had arrived intoxicated and had a sharp tongue, but was that any cause to throw away a well meaning offer? From what he had been observing, while elbows deep in delectables, this gathering was half meeting and half masquerade ball. Attended by people with their true emotions hidden behind masks, speaking in half truths. It felt like every message had sharp knives and dagger hidden beneath. Criticism was expected at a meeting such as this, regarding the death of a student and the future security of the tournament, but any bad blood one professor had for another slipped into the conversation unopposed. Darweshi recalled the intense grilling Professor Chimere received at the start, as if she was the most irresponsible professor in the entire world.

The next thing the Kenyan knew, Arif opted out of using a hidden dagger and whipped out a whole broadsword to verbally skewer Bakshi. In turn, the headmaster brought a gun to a swordfight and threatened to kick him out of the meeting then and there. Shifting to the last topic, Darweshi had heard that one before, Bakshi revealed that one of Einar's students happened be a Seer. Darweshi drank some more tea and perked up, intrigued. He was going to be travelling with a Legilimens and a Seer? Darweshi had only bore witness to the marvels of Animagus, of which there were no shortage of in Africa. Professor Amu, Professor Akello...Vergil. But these two would be completely new to him. Maybe if he was nice enough, the Seer could give him winning lottery numbers! Forcing himself back into reality so he could process Bakshi's words, Darweshi stroked his goatee as news of the first challenge was unveiled. Ilvermorny's landscape was transforming itself in preparation for an entire obstacle course, one that included a hidden labyrinth. The Uagadou professor's heart went out to the groundskeeper of the North American wizarding school. An important question was then asked: was it time for the games to begin? A day after the opening ceremony and things were already kicking into high gear. The question was an important one, and Darweshi halted his decision making to hear out Einar, who cited his concerns but ultimately would accept any decision. He agreed with the older professor's sentiment, the safety of all attendees being of the highest priority.

The next to speak up was Professor Chimere, who gave a revelation regarding her missing student. Darweshi's heart sank over the news that one of her students was feeling troubled and distraught enough to potentially have harmed himself with a spell. The youth were ever so important, and seeing anything happen to them choked him up. And in this case, literally. Every single student involved in the tournament was young enough that they could be his child. Perhaps proceeding wih caution was the best way to go about things. He never had the chance to meet either Professor Ito or Chimere's students, but their predicaments still weighed heavy on him. Even heavier weighed the possibility that hastily beginning the tournament would lead to any other students he would get to know during his classes getting hurt, or worse. Swallowing the last bite of his slider, Darweshi wiped his hands with a napkin and stood up, prepared to give his own answer.

"I personally believe that..." Darweshi paused, at the worst possible opportunity. A sea of eyes were directed squarely on him and he was now dead silent, choking once more. This time, on his words instead of French fries. The man wanted to vote against starting off so soon, but then he remembered something. A memory, one of Malaika and Aurelia's excitement over being selected to represent Uagadou. Pausing for mourning and everything else would temper the fire he felt emanating off them. Perhaps even stoke it. Taking a deep breath, Darweshi continued. "I think that the tournament should proceed with the first challenge tomorrow. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for our students to display their skills on a worldwide stage, and I feel that any delays would serve to discourage them. No plan is perfect, but the steps taken by Ilvermorny in confronting this devil who took a precious life are thorough enough in my eyes."

Before returning to his seat, the Potions professor looked around the room, remembering the names he had read off the schedule earlier. Some names now had faces to them, while others had yet to be met. But one fact was in focus: they were all going to be travelling and competing together. It was far too early to be at each other throats and Darweshi resolved to try his hand at holding things together. If not for his own sake, then for the students.
 


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


    Like two ethereally captivating naiads cutting elegantly through the water Gavy continued her tour of the hidden oasis that lay in the twisting caverns beneath the Ilvermorny grounds. As they swam Mal did an admirable job keeping up and when they dove into the wide underwater tunnels that led to air pockets lit up with mystical rocks Gavy made sure to keep a pace that would be easy to follow. The last thing she wanted was for her pen pal, who also happened to be a champion, to go missing or get hurt in these forbidden caves. While some might try and take advantage of possible accidents that sort of unsportsmanlike behavior wasn’t Gavy’s style. As far as she was concerned the beef between champions could be dealt with in the arena, unless it was absolutely unavoidable. She wasn’t a fool, she knew the tournament was always something to keep in mind, that the game existed outside of the challenges, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take time to just enjoy being with a friend she had be so looking forward to meeting. She hoped Mal felt the same and from what she had learned about the Uagadou champion over the last year gave reason for her to have those beliefs. Sure, the two of them certainly didn’t know EVERYTHING about each other, but Gavy still felt confident that Mal was a good person who wouldn’t do anything underhanded to specifically harm her. If they were to meet during a challenge, that would be one thing, they might be forced to face off then or go their separate ways, but not on a simple outing as friends. Here they were just Gavy and Mal, two girls looking for adventure, two girls enjoying a hidden oasis.

    After quite a bit of time spent exploring the pool and the caves attached to it, Gavy took to lounging peacefully in the shallows. She lay on her front, her body stretched out behind her as she leaned on her elbows and forearms with the water lapping all around her. Beside her Mal was resting with her white hair fanning out around her in the pool, the gentle lapping of the water making the pale strands ripple like a beta fish’s fins. The Ilvermorney champion's own hair fell like a curtain over one shoulder, its platinum locks streaked with pale jade that was reflected in the flecks of her otherwise naturally minty green eyes. “This is probably going to sound pathetic but GOD this has made me miss Imogen.” She sighed and flicked the water with a slender finger, watching the droplets leap out of the water on impact only to fall back in and create gentle ripples. “She and I used to come down here all the time and spend hours just doing…whatever felt right.” She sighed and chuckled to herself. “Now she’s off studying Thestral migration patterns and she couldn’t even bother to leave me her butterbeer cookie recipe.” She flopped over onto her back with a slight dramatic flair, catching herself on one elbow as she lifted her other hand to rest theatrically against her forehead. She glanced over at Mal with a playful smile pulling at her lips and all too quickly broke into a fit of laughter. “Pardonne mes drames.” She breathed between chuckles, accidentally slipping into her first language without realizing it. She lowered her arm so both now propped her up comfortably in the shallow water. “But those cookies were to die for. I mean oh mon Dieu, they were so soft and chewy and the glaze she covered them in just melted in your mouth. I swear she must have laced them with some form of love potion because every time I ate one I could have sworn I never loved her more.” She gushed and shook her head.

    Once her laughter had died down her gaze went from the sparkling rocky cavern ceiling above to resting on Mal again. “Sooooooooo…” She smiled with a playful glimmer in her gaze, her eyes sparkling with neon blue among the pale jade as streaks of her hair shifted to match. “How goes your romantic life?” She purred with curiosity. “Anything new? Are you seeing anyone? Have your eye on any of the other champions? Some of them look pretty tasty if you ask me.” She smiled clearly enjoying the chance to dish and talk about something so simple with her friend. “I bet you turned heads last night, I mean how could you not?” Her words flowed freely and with genuine honesty, as she spoke and looked into Mal’s sky-blue eyes to make sure she wasn’t crossing any lines with the conversation of choice. “Also is it just me or did most schools send absolutely jaw-dropping professors? I mean if they are trying to increase the likelihood of attendance to class during the tournament then mission accomplished but I can’t guarantee I’ll remember a single thing said when I’m too busy trying to fix my brain from short-circuiting.” She pointed out playfully.



    Mentions: Malaika Wolfiee Wolfiee



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

131bf66db5f0e872d5c20879bbda1db9.gifThough his suggestion had come from a place of consideration, Auguste couldn’t help but feel like he had shot himself in the foot when Lyssa agreed that she ought to go and change. He had not been at Ilvermorny for an hour and somehow this girl, this beautiful, sweet girl, had managed to make him forget his anxieties. Even Garan seemed to like her, having allowed her to stroke his neck as she cooed at him in soft Portuguese language.

Lyssa thanked him for healing her wounds, at which he blushed and said “De nada, Lyssa.” She sounded equally cute whether she said it in English, Portuguese or French. If only the blood hadn’t got on her sleeves, they might have had more time to get to know each other. As he watched her walk away, it hit him again that she was his opponent. Auguste had no strategy when it came to the Octowizard Tournament, and had no idea if it was wiser to make friends with the other contestants - he had had no time to prepare, finding out only yesterday that he was to compete, nor had he ever seen the tournament before. He barely even knew what it was about or what it entailed. Although he had been living a life fully immersed in magic since the age of 14 and was by now largely used to it, it did still sometimes feel like he was just a character in a fantasy novel and that he was going to someday wake up from a coma and be thrust back into his old life, where magic didn’t exist, things made sense and his parents were just normal farmers with a normal relationship, still together.

Whether or not he was stuck in a coma dream, his life seemed real enough and was worth accepting, no matter how strange it got. Lyssa had left now, the distraction was over, and he had to face it. He looked over at the bed Lyssa had been sitting on and felt a pull on him, like he might collapse right onto it and pass out in his clothes if he wasn’t careful. The bunk bed might be the better option, anyway - then at least whoever his roommate was that was sleeping on the top bunk wouldn’t be able to watch him sleep. He could even tuck a towel under the mattress above him to create a little privacy curtain. The idea of creating a cosy little den to fall asleep in was too enticing…

Yet, despite his exhaustion, he wasn’t nearly settled enough. He had to find Professor Chimere and let her know he had arrived. He needed to get her alone and talk through plans for the full moon - how she was going to get him in and out of school, where he could go during his transformation, and how they were going to excuse his absences. It no longer seemed feasible to give his usual excuse of having a monthly visit to his neurologist, now that he was in a foreign country. Nothing about the being called into the tournament made sense to him. He still had no idea why or how he had been selected.

After putting away his medical kit and closing his suitcase, Auguste forced himself to abandon the idea of crashing into bed and set off to find Professor Chimere. Remembering how lost he used to get at Beauxbatons, Auguste opted for the only route he could remember - the one between his dormitory and the James Steward dining hall. Maybe someone there would be able to tell him where the guest professors might be. Maybe he would be able to grab another bite to eat while he was there.

Unfortunately, when he made it back to the dining hall, it was mostly empty and food was starting to be cleared away. There were now only a few people dotted around the tables, but Professor Chimere wasn’t among them. As he was scanning the room, however, his eagle eyes landed on a familiar face. A familiar, welcome face.

“MIUN!”

Almost all heads in the hall turned to stare at him, but he didn’t care. There was someone who could always lift him up, someone who understood the tournament and could help him survive: Naomi de Vries. He ran over to her, and, without caring what her friends thought, wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight. He gave her a kiss on each cheek, and proceeded to speak rapidly in French.

“Miun, thank God I’ve found you - the Goblet of Fire spat my name out completely at random and now I’m competing in the tournament and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, I really think that stupid thing made a mistake! Please, you gotta help me, you need to tell me what to do, you need to tell me what’s going on with Raphael and why…he’s not…”

He trailed off, peeling away from her to look her up and down with his hands on her shoulders. ”Are you…meant to be in the infirmary?” With a concerned gaze fixed on her, he willed her to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth. “Miun, has something happened to you?”

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"In all due respect, Professor Bellamy, history has shown that the Triwizard Tournament is inherently dangerous. With almost three times as many students, there’s exponentially more room for violence to manifest." Bellamy's gaze darkened. Was he really being accused of being a simpleton, who didn't understand the danger of the tournament? He shot up in his seat and felt himself opening his mouth to retort, when Bakshi backpedaled as quickly as he could, explaining that a brigade of aurors would be taking over the school as an extra precautionary measure. He repressed an eyeroll. Of course, Arif objected as the resident sleaze, though he felt himself dismayed at this solution. The last thing he needed was a bunch of watchful eyes. "I thought most of the violence of tournaments occurred during the challenges," He mumbled, though intentionally kept it loud enough for the table to hear, keeping Bakshi under examination. That pompous idiot was clearly incapable of managing the pressure of the tournament. "But I'm sure a couple of aurors can help keep it that way, since we're off to a rocky start." He took another long draw from his coffee.

The room was quickly devolving into chaos, the new professor and Ito taking turns patronizing an upset Chimere, offering apologies that barely passed as sincere and treating the woman like she was a petulant child who had just thrown a tantrum. Really, was this the priority of these people? Establishing dominance over a fellow teacher they believed to be below them on account of her age? He suppressed an indignant laugh. Bellamy was just a handful of years older than her— Aadesh was younger— and yet, his competence had not been called into question. He glanced at Ito and the new woman, whose name he couldn't bother to remember at the moment, wondering if they were simply tall poppy cutters.

He sat back in his seat, rubbing his stubbled face thoughtfully. Professors took turns offering solutions to the Dead Giant Problem, though each concern seemed to fall on deaf ears. The new professor kept her lips sealed, as if she could not dare to challenge her headmaster. Was she on a short leash? Perhaps Amity's screw up was already reflecting on the woman. Filling in the shoes of a suspected murderer certainly had to place a magnifying glass over every move she would make, ready to be scrutinized at the smallest misstep. As would filling the shoes of a professor who allowed a student to die on her watch. However, Ito seemed to ignore any external pressure she may be facing, favoring her own, internal pressure. She was firey as ever, defending her students. She had a habit of being like that. Like she was the last sole protector of her kids. He watched her with a careful eye. She seemed to be holding up well, considering what had happened... Though the death of a student certainly couldn't be helping.

The general consensus of the professors seemed to be that we needed to get this De Vries girl in front of them in order to help determine next steps. If the murder had not been Amity's doing and they had simply eliminated another line of protection, getting clarity on the situation would be pertinent.

Bellamy no longer appreciated the Uagadou professor. In his haste to greedily stuff his gullet with the mini burgers they'd been served, it appeared the bald man had forgotten to chew, interrupting the calamity of the room. He did his best to disguise his irritation and feign concern, but there were matters greater than his choking. Really, he didn't want to go through the hassle of trying to get up with his injured leg and hobbling over to slam on this man's rotund stomach. He was thankful when Einar rose and performed the Heimlich, putting a stop to the raucous noise that man was making. Though, the reprieve of the silence was brief. Cha-Cha and the headmaster were arguing.

As much as he was growing to dislike the man, he found himself reluctantly agreeing with him. Aadesh hardly knew how or wanted things to be handled properly, but he was certain this wasn't it. And it certainly was not helping him. His fingers curled around his mug once more, frowning when he found it quickly losing his heat. Angelique had hardly touched hers, so he knew it must be in a similar state. He flicked his pinky, silently using a simple charm to restore its warmth. He offered a soft smirk when she took a sip from it, her surprise at its temperature evident, taking a turn to sip his own.

Bakshi turned the floor to a vote on whether or not the challenge should occur tomorrow. Einar opposed, though gave a profound reason for doing so. The choker supported the notion of a challenge tomorrow, and gave a profound(but less convincing) reason for doing so. Bellamy cleared his throat, leaning forward again and resting his elbows on the table. "While I disagree with how this student's passing is being handled," He said, his gaze traveling the table of professors. "I believe it may be in our best interests to have the tournament proceed. If the kid says it's tomorrow, it will be— prophecies are not easily thwartable..." A seer in the mix was certainly interesting. This Katzenbach would warrant a nice look-over later. "The challenge will direct our students' attentions to what's ahead of them, and, ultimately, I believe it will be safer for them. Our champions competing puts them directly in our line of sight for the day, and brings our secondaries out into a public space where we can keep an eye on them and protect them better than if they were scattered for the next few days. A few of us have served our countries as aurors, and the majority of us are experts in our respective fields of magic. The chances of something happening to our students gets smaller when we're all there. Three champions have been lost already. I would prefer to avoid having to lose any more." He looked pointedly at Bakshi. "I vote for it." He looked for a consensus to be reached amongst the professors who had not spoken yet.









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  • Professor Azura Ito
    Mahoutokoro - Female - Half-Blood - Professor


    As the voices around the room rose and fell, Azura’s gaze flickered briefly to her right, where she caught a glimpse of Professor Chimere’s arm. The bite marks on her skin, jagged, angry scars that reminded Azura of something she’d seen before, in memories that she didn’t like to revisit. She had seen a scar just like it on Alessandra’s shoulder from the time her daughter was fifteen and a horrible attack by a group of twisted wizards and their werewolf associate left Alessandra forever changed. The connection struck her like a bolt of lightning, though she kept her expression carefully neutral. It was an unsettling thought, but one she couldn’t quite ignore. Was it possible? Was Chimere connected to lycanthropy in some way? It was a question that hung in her mind like an unanswered riddle. She knew it was quite possible that the scar came from a bite given by one of the many magical creatures the young professor dealt with every day and yet Azura was no fool. In her efforts to help her daughter she had studied the bite of the werewolf in great detail, she knew what they looked like and though Chimere had covered her arm Azura was not blind and had seen just enough before the marks were hidden away.

    Shaking off the distraction, Azura focused back on the conversation at hand. She knew all too well the danger of allowing her emotions to cloud her judgment, but as she listened to the back-and-forth among the professors, she couldn’t help but feel an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse with every word. There were too many competing interests, too many voices clamoring to have their say. And yet, despite it all, one thing remained clear: they were all responsible for the safety of these students, and no matter the chaos or the arguments, the students had to come first.

    Her mind drifted back to her own childhood, raised by a seer, surrounded by constant reminders of a prophecy that she truly thought she could escape if she tried hard enough. She lived her life in the shadow of her mother’s prediction, learning far too late that prophecies were not easily defied, that in some ways her mothers final actions had been meant as a form of mercy she would all too willingly accept now if she could. Prophecies were like a current, a powerful force that could sweep you away, no matter how much you fought it. In her heart, Azura knew the importance of respecting what had been foreseen even if every fiber of her being told her to resist and argue for more time for the good of the students and security sake. Prophecies didn’t wait though, they couldn’t be argued with, they couldn’t be reasoned with, and they didn’t just go away. They carried with them a weight, a destiny that couldn’t be ignored without consequences.

    And yet… here, now, she faced the crossroads of prophecy and pragmatism. The seer who had foretold this tournament, Piper, she remembered, had predicted that the first challenge would happen tomorrow. Prophecies like this weren’t easily bent once a time frame had been established. To refuse it would invite unnecessary chaos, confusion, and perhaps even more harm. It was a difficult truth to face, but it was one she understood too well. While part of her wanted to wait, to postpone and take a moment to allow the weight of the loss to settle and to ensure that the students were safe, the prophecy gnawed at her mind.

    Hearing Professor Bellamy’s vote for the challenge to proceed due to the prophecy only further solidified her own feelings on the matter. Gods she wished she had time to better prepare Chitrita for what was to come. She wished she had more time to honor her fallen student whose death would not be forgotten by her any time soon, even if other wished to sweep it under the rug. She wished they all had more time to figure out what was going on and how to best protect the students, not just her own. Her thoughts flickered to the Beauxbaton champion who had turned his wand on himself and her heart twisted for him, for his fellow students, even for Chimere. But unfortunately this prophecy did not come with the luxury of time. She fucking hated prophecies.

    Her hand tightened slightly against the back of the chair she stood behind, maroon nails held firm agains the hard materialt, gathering her thoughts. Once the Hogwarts professor had said his peace Azura let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Prophecies are not easily defied.” The Mahoutokoro Potions Master began, her voice calm and measured as she addressed the room though a flicker of fire blazed in her mahogany gaze, a sign that she was less than thrilled with what she was about to say. “We may wish to hold back, to take our time and process what has happened,” Her gaze flicked to Einar with a nod of acknowledgement towards his argument. “But if we let our hesitation carry on for too long, I fear that we will lose something far more important than our peace of mind.” She continued with well practiced composure that stemmed from lifetimes of addressing her peers. “It is all too possible that trying to avoid the challenge will jepordize more lives and as Professor Nyache and Professor Bellamy have pointed out the challenge is something we can use to rally the students moral while also keeping an eye on them.”

    She paused for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly against the chair. Azura allowed her gaze to drift over the faces around the room. She could see the skepticism in some, the doubt in others, specifically in the aged face of a former auror she knew many years ago. But she had learned long ago not to be swayed by mere opinion. She had to follow what her instincts, and, yes, the weight of her own experiences, told her was the right course of action. “If Mr. Katzenbach foresaw that the challenge would take place tomorrow then tomorrow it should be.” For a heartbeat as she spoke her thoughts lingered on her mother’s voice calling to her from the distant past, the warnings, the cryptic words about destiny and the course that was always meant to unfold. Azura had spent years trying to untangle the meaning of that prophecy, trying to discern where it ended and where her own will began, trying to run from it. But there was a truth she knew all too well…to fight against a prophecy was to invite chaos into the very world you sought to protect. “We should still maintain a level of caution of course,” Azura added, her gaze now fixed firmly on Bakshi. “But I vote yes.”

    Her heart was heavy with the weight of her decision, but to Azura such weight was not uncommon. She did not let the gaze of others cause her to bend but instead remained standing tall and proud. She had cast her vote and she stood by her words even if others might not take them to heart.



    Mentions: Cha-Cha Aviator Aviator Deianira Pyroclast Pyroclast Angelique Wolfiee Wolfiee Bellamy honeycoves honeycoves Darweshi TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi



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


    Being a part of this group was like being a leaf pushed around on an angry Autumn breeze. She didn’t feel she truly had a say in where she would land and honestly, Naomi understood that no one would blink twice if she were to spiral away altogether. If she were to simply decide to walk away without a word there was no doubt in her mind that the others wouldn’t care. She didn’t take it personally, however, why would she? It wasn’t as though she felt these people owed her any ounce of their time, she really didn’t mean anything to them and that was alright. It could be hard and uncomfortable even for others who were already connected to want to broaden those connections in any way and Naomi certainly wouldn’t force it. Chitrita had been polite enough to invite her along to find lunch and honestly, Naomi still had no idea where to go from here or when her last real meal was so with a small yet genuine smile she accepted the invitation and followed along. She would stay with them for as long as seemed necessary and acceptable and then she would quietly make her leave and allow them to continue their gathering in peace.

    Following the group into the dining hall, she noticed the lackluster way in which the house elves reacted and did her best to give them a grateful nod for their service. It seemed however that the elves were far more focused on the womping willow of a young man just ahead of her, specifically in getting as far away from him as possible. Moving around the tables to see what food remained Naomi paid no attention to how other students gave her odd or judging looks for her attire. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the pointing and the whispers from the students who remained post-lunch rush, she just felt she had no reason to react or feel ashamed when she was simply doing her best in the situation she currently found herself in. If she had a change of clothes easily accessible to her she would change but for now, the hospital gown was all she had access to so it was either that or nothing at all which just didn’t seem like it would be a better option.

    As she gathered a prepackaged garden salad with a side of some sliced chicken breast for herself Naomi found herself standing near Chitrita. “You have certainly surrounded yourself with quite a garden of characters.” She observed as Vasu and Theo interacted not too far away, her gaze turning to Chitrita with a gentle smile on her rosy pink lips. “Is it like this for you at Mahoutokoro as well?” She inquired though she had a feeling that for a being like Chitrita who seemed to burn like the sun at the center of a solar system, she never lacked in people willing to play the planets dancing around her. As she spoke she noticed Altair make moving to claim a spot near Chitrita and gave the young man a nod of greeting as he settled with his own plate of food. “It is a shame you missed the opening ceremony Altair.” She began in an attempt to start what she hoped to be a friendly conversation with the young man. “It was quite lovely and I am certain you would have looked dashing dressed up. From what I remember Chitrita was a vision in her own right.” She continued as flashes from the night before streaked through her mind. The vibrant music and colors of different gowns and suits making a whirlwind of beauty within her thoughts.

    Among the dazzling display of memories, however, Naomi could almost sense a layer of something deeper. It felt like little feathers tickling and caressing the back of her mind, creating some sort of static that kept her from seeing the entire picture. The later into the night she tried to remember the blurrier it got as the feathery sensation of her mind turned to needles in her brain and for a brief moment it took everything in her not to physically wince at the pain. As suddenly as it came the pain disappeared along with whatever it was she was trying to remember so instead she turned her attention back to her salad and decided to find a place of peace within the creative sanctuary of her mind where she had learned to retreat to long ago for all different reasons the main of which was to find comfort.

    Sitting in silence and listening to Vasu, Theo, Chitrita, and Altair speak she found herself enjoying her own internal entertainment as she formed a poem she found herself calling ‘The Garden in My Mind’. Little by little she worked her way through the lines of the poem, drawing from her current situation as well as the slight stab of longing she felt for some form of comfort and familiarity. She hadn’t seen or heard anything of Raph or Kiara since waking, she hadn’t been able to find Professor Chimere either. When she first woke Piper had been with her but he quickly left and worry stung her heart when she realized she still needed to find him and make sure he was okay. All in all, aside from Vasu whose feelings about how welcome she was with him seemed to change with the tide, Naomi had been alone.

    For an instant, Naomi feared she must be having waking side effects of whatever had happened to her the night before when she heard a familiar and much welcome voice shout the nickname few people called her by. It couldn’t be…could it? She didn’t dare to truly believe that she had heard Auguste’s voice until she turned and her copper gaze landed on his figure standing at the entrance of the dining hall. “Auggie!” She breathed and it was barely above a whisper but as it left her lips she was already flying free of her seat and racing towards him without a care in the world for how she must look. The moment he was within reach her pale arms wrapped around him and she held her best friend to her as though she were afraid he might disappear if she let go. She didn’t even realize it until she felt wetness on her cheeks but just the sight of him was enough to have her crying in relief as she smiled up at him, a tearful laugh escaping her lips when he jumped into rapid conversation without missing a beat.

    As always she listened to him carefully, taking in all of his words and doing her best to be a calm presence for him as he was clearly and understandably stressed. In truth, she didn’t even know where to begin when it came to all that was happening but she didn’t want to let her best friend down and so Naomi took a breath, wiped tears born of relief from her cheeks, and did her best to address all that she could. “I’m fine Auggie, I promise.” She began in French, wanting to address his clear concern for her health caused by her current appearance. “I fell and hit my head after the dance last night and spent the night in the infirmary but I’m right as rain now.” She assured him and hoped she wasn’t lying. “You know how I am.” She added in hopes of using humor to assure him as she spoke in her light, sweet, fae-like voice. “I…I haven’t seen Raph or honestly anyone from home since waking up. He wasn’t in the infirmary this morning so hopefully…I mean unless he was dismissed…” She considered then shook her head. “I’m sure he is around here somewhere and that everything is getting figured out. We will find Professor Chimere and learn what has happened.” She added before wrapping her arms around him in another much-needed embrace. “I am honestly so relieved that you are here though. No matter what has happened I don’t believe you being here is a mistake. Not for one instant would I ever believe that.” She assured him as she buried her face against his shoulder finding much-needed comfort in having her best friend at her side. She had no idea how she had expected to make it through the year without him and the moment she saw Auguste standing before her again it was like she had suddenly seen the gap of longing that had formed within her that was being repaired by his presence alone.

    Taking a step back she looked up at him and tilted her head to the side as she examined him closely. “Whatever happens I’ve got you, you know that.” She swore as she always had. “Come on, let’s go see if we can find Professor Chimere or Raph or Kiara.” She prompted knowing that the sooner she could get him some answers the better. Turning back to face the table she had just been sitting at she gave the group there a bow of farewell. “Thank you and enjoy your lunch.” She wished them with a genuine smile before turning to grab Auguste’s hand and rushing barefoot out of the dining hall again.



    Mentions: Vasu Aviator Aviator Chitrita honeycoves honeycoves Theo WanderLust. WanderLust. Altair TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Auguste Pyroclast Pyroclast

    A garden blooms within my mind,
    Where sun-kissed petals softly wind.
    Yet here I sit, in gilded halls,
    Where echoes fade and silence calls.

    The thorns of words, so sharp and sly,
    The vine of gossip, twisting high.
    The scent of rose? A lie, a trace,
    While I long for petals in their grace.

    Oh, to dance with lilies fair,
    Not masks that laugh with empty air!
    I’d rather wander through the trees,
    Than be swept along by hollow pleas.

    But in the breeze, a kindness blows,
    A gentle leaf where peace bestows.
    In roots and earth, my heart is free—
    In this strange garden, let me be.



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THE MADMAN.






























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Chahaya






Arif








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MOOD








It's All Coming Together.























OUTFIT








Eboy Supreme. Fedora.























LOCATION








Room 220; Conference.

























MENTIONS








Darweshi, Chimere, Hells Bells





















INTERACTS








Deia, Pyroclast Pyroclast Einar & Azura Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1





































NOT — BIG THIEF

































































































































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Common love isn't for us








We created something phenomenal
You got me feeling diamond-rich
Nothing on this planet compares to it
Don't you agree? Don't you agree?





























































EVE OF THE FIRST CHALLENGE.


Following Einar’s half-hearted, almost apologetic pitch to delay the kickoff of the tournament, the Uagadou professor led the charge for holding the first challenge tomorrow. As every subsequent professor sided with him, giving the case a thin veil of plausibility, Cha-Cha’s incredulity mounted. Confronting this devil? He let the big man’s melodramatic language reverberate in his head. Unless Amity was the devil in question, no one had been confronted with culpability for the murder of the giant, and it had already been established that her guilt was unproven.

Bellamy took a break from flirting with his post-adolescent girlfriend long enough to opine that the student competitors would be safer with all of the professors gathered in one place. What are you talking about? Cha-Cha thought, leaning forward with lips parted, chin cradled in one hand and ready to pounce as soon as the other man had finished his piece. There was a murderer on the loose, and lumping all the professors together would make them an easy target that could be taken out in one strike. What the hell kind of battle strategy had they been teaching Bellamy in Auror academy? Clearly the Golden Boy’s tuition had come at a steep discount.

Cha-Cha was momentarily distracted by Chimere batting her long lashes at Bellamy demurely, as if his immeasurable genius was something that couldn’t be resisted. During this interval, Ito slowly rose from beside him, once again towering over him, and he missed his chance. Cha-Cha was unsure of the etiquette that dictated the meeting, and it seemed like a lot of the other professors were too. Half of them clambered up from their seats to speak, while others remained planted around the makeshift conference table that was really just a bunch of desks pushed together. But Cha-Cha had worked in the service industry long enough that an empty chair was a gift that he didn’t readily relinquish when he saw one.

Ito cited the common superstition about trying to thwart prophecies ending in doom as her reason to vote in the affirmative. Cha-Cha cocked his head, considering this alleged prophecy for the first time. What a convenient excuse it was to apply pressure, the illusion of urgency to corral others along a desirable agenda.

“I have a question.” Cha-Cha shifted positions in his chair, pulling his knees up against the table’s edge and leaning back so that the chair was on two legs. Ito had concluded her argument but remained standing while Cha-Cha fidgeted in his seat, as if it was her attempt to put their worlds in proper scale. “Did anyone here actually hear this Katatonic— Kabbage Patch— Whatever-The-Hell-His-Name-Is kid deliver this big, bad prophecy?”

Bakshi pushed his glasses up his nose with the air of a know-it-all eager to establish his intellectual dominance. “Well, yes, Mister Arif. Professor Einar happened to be there while the Katzenbach boy was undergoing a seizure and presumably glimpsing the future.” His mouth lifted at a haughty angle, as if satisfied with himself for having told Cha-Cha the lay of the land and prematurely nipping in the bud whatever time-wasting objection the latter might have raised.

“Okay, okay, good to know.” Hating having to address his nemesis directly, Cha-Cha looked across the table to Einar. “Did the kid explicitly mention that the challenge would happen tomorrow? In fact, did the word tomorrow appear anywhere at all?”

Before Einar could bite off a reply, Bakshi was answering Cha-Cha’s question, as if his memory of the secondhand account of the events was sharper than Einar’s first-hand one. “If we’re going to split hairs, the verbatim terminology was come morning light,” Bakshi informed, looking like he was barely repressing a roll of his eyes at Cha-Cha’s damnable tendency of splitting hairs.

Cha-Cha’s head was still feeling light from drink, and he was genuinely unsure if he was the idiot in the room this time. “Do correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, putting his hands up as if to ward off an attack, “but since when is morning light a synonym for tomorrow? If the sun rises—and so far it has reliably every day since the dawn of time, so I’ll wager it will continue to do so for the next few weeks here at Ilvermorny—that constitutes morning. All this prophecy says is that the first challenge will take place sometime during the morning. And that it probably won’t be raining if the sun’s out.”

Bakshi blew his cheeks out. “What is your point, Mister Arif? Forgive us for not being able to keep up with the magnitude of your epiphany.”

Cha-Cha stared pointedly. “What I’m saying is that it sounds like someone just really, really wants the first challenge to take place tomorrow morning. Not that it was ever an absolute in a prophecy.” Bakshi tried to interject, but Cha-Cha wasn’t finished and talked over him. “For the sake of argument, even if this prophecy did specify that the challenge would be tomorrow—which I am by no means admitting—what’s the worst that will happen if it’s postponed to next week? Is the world going to end? Is morning light going to cease to be? If we’re going to interpret the prophecy like the biblical idiots who said that homosexuality is sinful, I guess that’s on the table.”

“Mister Arif, as a grown adult, do I really have to tell you not to mock anyone’s religion?” Bakshi veered the conversation away from Cha-Cha’s point, as if he was stalling for time to formulate a counter argument. Then, appearing to reign his outrage in, he continued, “Even if I am to entertain your idea that the language of the prophecy leaves room for uncertainty, wouldn’t you agree that it’s better to be safe than sorry and hold the challenge tomorrow anyway? Just in case that is indeed what our young seer meant?”

Cha-Cha set down his styrofoam coffee cup after taking a sip. “No, I wouldn’t. Because holding the challenge tomorrow is a damn good distraction from the various problems we have on our hands. The death of a champion. Another one suddenly sabotaging himself and needing replacement. The Ilvermorny statues selecting the tournament champions while the Goblet of Fire remains inert. None of that will be as relevant once the tournament is underway and the results of the first challenge are the talk of the town. Not to mention, if there really is a murderer on the loose, we—students and professors alike—are sitting ducks if we assemble all at one place at the same time tomorrow. We open ourselves to attack.”

Bakshi threw Cha-Cha such a look of disbelief that Cha-Cha doubted himself for half a second, wondered if he was not the criminal mastermind he’d thought himself but actually the most paranoid fuck in the room. Bakshi finally said, “I already explained that the Aurors posted around the school will solve the issue of security. A group of them will be attending the first challenge tomorrow to ensure everyone’s continued safety.”

Cha-Cha tilted his head onto the palm of his hand. “Are they really ensuring our safety when there’s a legitimate possibility that the Aurors are in on whatever this scheme is? Or rather than confederates getting a cut of the prize, is their arrival just another attempt at distracting the audience while trickery goes on behind the curtain?”

“Mister Arif, you are leveling a serious accusation right now.”

“Is it really so unbelievable to consider that someone might be fixing the tournament toward a desirable outcome? First the giant falls over dead because he poses too much of a threat to the competition, raises too many unknown variables. Now a nobody from Beauxbatons that no one’s ever heard of until today is suddenly thrust into the spotlight, replacing his mysteriously ill classmate.” Cha-Cha narrowed his eyes shrewdly. “Staff may not be able to legally bet on the tournament, but it wouldn’t be that hard to find a go-between and split the profits. My business associates and I used to fix horse races in Indonesia all the time; as bookmakers, it was actually our most reliable source of income. It’s a fairly straightforward process.”

Bakshi snorted in amusement. “By business associates, do you mean your partners within your criminal organization? I suppose if they wear suits and can count money, that makes them legitimate earners in your eyes.”

Before Cha-Cha could skewer the Ilvermorny headmaster for digressing, someone else had tired of their back-and-forth. Amity’s replacement, the pretty woman of ambiguous ethnicity, shot her hand in the air, commanding the room’s attention. And she voted to hold the first challenge tomorrow, securing a majority.

Cha-Cha blinked at her dazedly, as if she had just slapped him. “Did you not listen to a goddamn thing I just said? Or is your tournament salary dependent on jumping whenever your master tells you to?”

Bakshi was too busy wearing a snakelike smile to reprimand Cha-Cha for disrespect again. When he spoke, his voice was sweet, like how a worm whispers to a man in a coffin. “Well, I suppose that concludes our business here. With five votes, the first challenge will be at nine tomorrow morning. Professors, please spread the word to your champions and do whatever you see necessary to prepare them to compete. Godspeed to you all, and thank you for making time in your busy schedules for a last-minute staff meeting.”

Inexplicably, Cha-Cha was the first to bolt to his feet among those not already standing, somehow beating out both Darweshi and Danvers, who appeared as if they had taken cleanup duty of the White Castle sliders as a personal responsibility. Against all logic, Cha-Cha found himself casting an accusatory gaze about the room, and it bounced around like a roulette wheel, because he was not sure who to aim it at. Finally, perhaps at random, it settled on Ito, because the Mahoutokoro professor was the one who had started them on this nonsensical “obey the prophecy or else” kick. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to start his tirade with a loathsome, overly personal, “you.”

“It’s not prophecies we have to fear. You know that, right?” He stood with one elbow cupped into the opposite hand, his chin pressed into a palm as if that was the only thing holding him together. “It’s the limitless lengths that schemers will go to twist them to their own ends. It’s the listeners who have something to gain by deliberately misinterpreting them.”

“Enough of your theatrics, Arif. They won’t change anything.” Bakshi’s taunt didn’t have his heart in it, because he was all smiles for the new Ilvermorny professor who had tipped the scales in his favor.

“You want theatrics? A prophecy? Fine, then. I’ll give you one.” Cha-Cha looked wildly around the room at large for someone to back him up, feeling consumed by a wash of madness and unsure if it was Bakshi’s or his own doing. Feeling like a chess king backed into a corner, he started retreating blindly from the conference table. “I don’t need a seer to tell me this is all a setup for something much larger at play. When another student or one of us drops dead, don’t come crying to—” But he had been relegated to a boy crying wolf, making a monster of a far-off possibility, and all that echoed around the room were a few scandalized gasps when his ankle ensnared itself with the leg of the banquet table. Cha-Cha windmilled his arms and barely saved himself from falling backward, but the damage to his reputation had already been done. Bewildered to find everyone unmoved and only his forsaken ex-mentor on his side, he shot one more betrayed glance around the room before turning and vanishing out the door.




























































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"Apple bottom jeans..."​
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To Altair's delight, Chitrita bought into his wager. The high roller shook his die in one hand and rolled it onto the ground with a practiced ease. The odds of his numbers being called were incredibly low. A twenty sided die gave him a one in twenty chance of success, which was pretty slim. But a second die added into the equation turned that into, well, an even smaller number! There was a tiny, tiny, microscopic chance that he would win, with the exact number probably having a lot of zeros at the start. 0.0005%? 0.00005%? 0.0000000000005%? There was probably a lesson on something like this in Arithmancy. Or as Altair called it, 'that one class with Li Tokimune'. But then there was the Altair Factor, which rendered all that heavy brain work absolutely useless! The Hajar skyrocketed his odds by a gorillion percent! Chitrita's reaction was one he had seen time after time, but each time he saw it on someone's face was priceless. There was something about the total and utter surprise at his luck that tickled the boy pink. It sounded like a putt-putt, the way some people would gasp and sputter at the results. Then came the accusations that he was cheating. The way he saw it, he was tipping the scales in his favor. And that went for every interaction he had where he used the Hajar. When he really looked at it, life had been rigged against him from the start. Being the son of the second wife and the treatment that came from it with his siblings. Whisked off to a new country at the ripe age of seven, where he looked and talked different from everyone else. The hill. No, this was the universe dispensing some much needed karma in his favor. At that moment, Altair suddenly noticed that his fists were tightly clenched. Worse yet, his body was all tensed up, as if he was anticipating a blow. Exhaling through his mouth, the boy released the out of place tension that unknowingly found itself in his body. He was always relaxed and carefree, where did all that negativity come from?

Before he could think about what that was all about, Chitirita was on the offense, accusing him of using weighted die with her most disdainful look yet. Digging into his feelings then became the lowest priority, because Altair's train of thought was overtaken by how close the two of them were. And more so, how hot angry Chitrita was! Regular Chitrita was a cutiepie, but angry Chitrita was a whole other beast. Her eyes had this furious intensity that could melt steel beams if they wanted to. In the face of all this raw emotion directed squarely on him, a goofy grin spread across Altair's face. Chitrita, Chitrita, Chitrita. You're angry now, but just wait until my luck is running in our favor! Mental note, find opportunity to impress Chitrita with gambling skills. Girls love gambling. When something up ahead stole her attention, Altair looked up in turn to watch another girl step out of a room. She was wearing a weird looking outfit, but her looks were anything but that. She had a slender frame and milky-white skin, with a head of pink hair that reminded him of the sakura trees back home. But as attractive as she was, it was who emerged after her that excited Altair the most. Big booty Vasu from Care of Magical Creatures had just reentered his life. Despite his tendency for acts of craziness, like the time he attacked thin air, Altair liked his bold sass. His sass, and his ass. Once again, Altair had the chance to surprise Chitrita as he felt her whisper into his ear. For the sake of appearances, Altair stifled a giggle from the whisper's tickling sensation before pointing at Vasu with his chin and smiling at the other boy. "Oh, we know each from class this morning. What's up, man?"

Two hands stretched out to point at Chitrita upon hearing Vasu's questions. Right before he could be the first to present Mahoutokoro's new champion, along with her stunning secondary, Chitrita took control of the conversation. The hype rumbling inside his stomach deflated as Altair drooped his head mid-pose. Eventually, he looked back up to admire the nice view that was Vasu's Asian companion. With her, Altair's fantasies of getting a good view of those Vasu cheeks were dashed. There was no way those two weren't getting it on in there. His sexuality was something that he kept under wraps, despite how open he tried to be in general. Mahoutokoro was incredibly conservative and didn't take kindly to deviation from the status quo. The Hajar could do many things, but it wouldn't be able to restore his street cred if anyone found out he liked guys just as much as girls. Then again, this wasn't Mahoutokoro. But then, as if he heard Altair's lamentation, Vasu took the time to formally introduce his lady friend to him and Chitrita. But more importantly, that they were more rivals than friends. Altair's gaze shifted between Vasu and Naomi. Two good looking and available people, in front of Altair Ibn Layla? Where to even begin? Take a risk? Or try to crack the secret that was hidden by Naomi's lithe, elf-like looks? Seriously, what were they feeding those people over in Beauxbaton? Hot professor, cute student, their roster was like a beauty magazine!

Altair bounced the question around in his head as Chitrita invited the two to join their three for lunch. The walk to the lunch room was spend stealing glances at his two current love interests, darting his eyes away whenever they threatened to lock eyes with him. Eventually, the quintet arrived at the dining hall, which had failed at the one job it had. What happened to the land of the plenty?! Talk about slim pickings! Nonetheless, Altair hadn't eaten in quite a while, so he couldn't complain too much at what remained. Altair paid the mean-mugging house elves no mind as he decided on his slim pickings. The hunger that had taken possession of his stomach cared not for the temperature of his meal. The Flying Eagle needed fuel, pronto! Altair stocked up on the brown beef before heading to the designated eating spot. Things were quiet at first, with everyone focused on their choice of struggle meals. But when Vasu asked Theo a question, the Mahoutokoro student marveled as the hunk of Hogwarts shared more words with the other boy than he did with he and Chitrita combined. Half-way through a mouthful of beef, Altair heard Naomi address him. He would have looked dashing dressed up? I'm thinking that Ms. French Beauty here is digging me! Altair beamed at her with a mouth full of food before swallowing it all in one gulp. "Thanks! Glad to see I'm not the only one here who thinks I'm a handsome devil!" The handsome devil then grabbed a napkin and wiped some food off his handsome face. "So, I heard something about you playing Quidditch? Flying around on a broom is cool and all, but have you tried a flying carpet? It's cooler looking, a thousand times more comfortable, and you can carry stuff on it with you!" He leaned in towards her across the table. "If you want, I could show you mine. Maybe we could go on a test dri--"

“MIUN!”

Altair scrunched his face and turned to the source of this odd sound to find another boy, one with a joyous expression on his face. Considering they were the only ones in the hall, besides the grouchy custodians, Altair asked himself who was being referred to. He turned back to Naomi, amused. "Wonder who he's talking to. You think Theo--" The answer to the Yemeni boy's question was sitting right across from him, as Naomi joined in on the newcomer's joy. He made his way to the table and immediately engaged Naomi in a different language. Whatever he was saying, there was a lot of it. Altair watched the interaction, speechless. What was this admittedly handsome guy doing here, and why did he zero in on the girl he was just talking to? After Naomi shared some words of her own, she rose to her bare feet and bid them all farewell before departing with Mr. boy toy. Altair was still speechless as he watched them leave. Boyfriend. That had to be her boyfriend, there was no other reason she would leave so abruptly and guide him away by the hand like that. Slowly rearing his head to face what was left of his lunch, the boy coughed before grabbing his spoon and collecting some more morsels of stone cold beef. "She has a boyfriend! Who would've known?" Altair coped. Hopefully, no one heard his attempt at asking Naomi to hang out before she ditched him. "This beef's delicious."
 
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KING OF DIAMONDS.






























scroll


Vasu






Saini








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








For real, bruh?























OUTFIT








Somethin like this. Father's watch.























LOCATION








Dorm Room.

























MENTIONS








Auri, Naomi





















INTERACTS








Sigurd, TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi Mey honeycoves honeycoves





































DANCING QUEEN —
ABBA.

































































































































scroll












By the time you saw the open gate








And the cobra by the door
You were halfway hauled to holy ghosts,
the poison of the Lord.





























































PRELUDE TO THE FIRST CHALLENGE.


Vasu was having a nightmare. He had succeeded in toppling his grandmother from matriarch of the close-knit Saini clan. How he had killed her—an Unforgivable Curse? Crushing her beneath a mound of rubble with a Reductor Curse? A death potion, which in a turn of irony, had once been used by MACUSA to execute criminals and enforce justice?—evaded him, but he was suffering divine wrath as a result of his iniquity. He’d committed hinsa, the unforgivable sin of violence, and a four-armed rakshasa with a reptilian head had risen up from the depths of Naraka to punish him and claim his soul. Vasu hung by his fingertips from the lip of a fiery pit. A hundred meters below, twisting flames radiated an inexorable heat that made his skin blister. In the center of the pool of fire was a cauldron. Three other animal-headed rakshasa were using long wooden staves to mix the remains of the wicked into a soup with steaming blood for broth.

The rakshasa tormening Vasu had seized him by the ankle. Vasu gave a cry as, with a mighty ripple of muscles, the rakshasa yanked on him, lurching downward. Vasu’s nails scratched over rock as he fought for a few more seconds of life. The last embers of strength within him faded and died, and the unrelenting hand around his ankle dragged him down to hell.

He woke with a start and kicked outward, eliciting a yelp from a throat that wasn’t his. Breathing hard, Vasu immediately pulled his knees to his chest, relieved that he was no longer within the demon’s grasp. Then bewilderment set in as he cast a bleary-eyed gaze around the room for the source of the noise, which had evolved into a long, low groan. An emergency siren of alarm screaming through him, Vasu dove for his wand, ready to ward off a threat. There, at the foot of the loft bed, was a half-stranger that provoked the faintest flicker of recognition from his sleep-sluggish brain. Pale-skinned and shortish, with heavy eyebrows and a fuzz of hair that wasn’t much longer than the patchy stubble that dotted his jawline. A jawline that he was massaging tenderly, for Vasu had presumably kicked him there.

“Hey man, the fuck is your problem!” Vasu shouted, his voice still hoarse from his abrupt awakening. “You are soooo lucky I didn’t jinx your ass, because my History of Magic textbook was about to grow teeth and take a chunk out of—”

Behind the roommate whose name Vasu could not remember, a pool of light from the hallway beyond cut off as the door closed, plunging the dorm back into near darkness. Vasu hadn’t even noticed that the door had been open until now, concerned as he’d been with the immediate threat.

Vasu whipped back to the other boy, the foreigner whose school of origin he didn’t even know. “Oh no. You did not just have someone in here while I was sleeping. Gods above, I swear if I find any of my stuff stolen, or my furniture used improperly and in ways I did not approve of, then—”

The door cracked open again, revealing a tousled head of syrupy-brown hair. He had barely processed that it was Mey when she began to word-vomit a number of urgent things at him all at once. Well, Vasu guessed they were urgent things, from her wide eyes and machine gun rapidfire mouth, but the truth was that she was talking too fast in too thick an accent for him to understand.

While she yammered on, Vasu rolled his eyes, unable to believe that he’d woken to this ridiculousness at— What time was it, anyway? At the end of their wide arc, his eyes fell on his alarm clock, which had yet to go off. According to the digital red numbers that blinked up at him, it was 9:23. His first class of the day wasn’t until 11:30, and he’d planned to sleep in. “Just a minute, Mey. Let’s talk in the hallway, okay?”

Vasu had expected his request to be verbally bulldozed over, but blessedly, Mey broke off with a strange whimpering sound and moved away from the door, letting it shut behind her. Indignation flared through Vasu, and he had half a mind to either ignore her outright or tell her off for disrupting his sleep. Instead, he took a few calming breaths and climbed down the loft ladder. On the off-chance that she actually had something important to say, his duty as a competitor in the tournament and her school partner obligated him to hear her out. He half-expected that she had forgotten how to braid and needed him to do her hair again.

There was a hiss from a dark corner of the room, next to his guitar. A mottled brown-and-green triangular head lifted itself on a long neck. With a breathy sussurrus that Vasu recognized as laughter, Archimedes asked, Is everything all right, Master?

“Shut up,” Vasu hissed back. The linoleum tiles felt cold against his bare feet as he crossed to the door, side-eyeing the roommate as he went. Vasu frowned as he noted the peculiar outfit the kid was wearing. It was brightly-colored spandex, like he was an amateur cyclist who was taking the game way too seriously, or playing dress-up as a very scrawny superhero. I never did get to check the gym out, he was reminded, and resolved to change this today. Having a goal did a little bit to ease the lethargic slump that clung to him.

But it wasn’t until the cold air of the hallway and Mey’s pointed stare embraced him that Vasu remembered he was clad in only his sleepwear: a bedraggled tank top that, in better days, had once been referred to as athletic wear, and a pair of checkered boxers. All of the warmth in Mey’s pale skin seeped out like a wilted flower as she took in the sight of him. Vasu felt an uncomfortable prickle of goosebumps at the closeness of her stare. He cleared his throat. “Did you want something?” Obviously she wanted something. Mey wouldn’t have knocked on his door at half-past nine for nothing. But it was polite code for you had better want something good to wake me up on the one school day a week that I get to sleep in.

Mey took a breath, as if she was steadying herself. Or holding back another torrent of words from sweeping up Vasu and knocking him over with its force. In hindsight, the strategy was a total failure. Because the short sentence that left her lips hit Vasu like a bullet to the skull.

He blinked at her, nonplussed, syllables refusing to make sense in his brain. “What do you mean, the first challenge starts in half an hour? Like, half an hour… today? From now?”

Mey bobbed her head once, and it had all the gravity of a physician confirming a worst-case scenario. She went on to inform Vasu that she had heard through her friend Auri about a professors’ meeting that had happened yesterday, in which the attendees had voted to hold the first challenge tomorrow.

“Who the fuck is Auri?” Vasu sputtered, feeling drowned by this assortment of new information. “And why the fuck didn’t Vinogradov tell me this himself?” A sliver of paranoia wedged under his skin. “Is this some kind of prank?” Vasu was nobody’s fool, but he dearly, desperately hoped this charade was just a figment of someone’s depraved imagination.

Apparently, Auri was the nauseating pet name of that Uagadou know-it-all, and Viogradov had probably not attended the meeting, which had been organized last-minute. Vasu clicked his tongue, disbelieving but not. From any other professor, he would have been appalled by such irresponsibility. From Vinogradov, who was constantly brooding over his divorce, or gambling arrears, or heinous lack of fashion sense or whatever the hell depressed adults brooded over, it was exactly the kind of incompetence that Vasu expected. But that didn’t change the fact that this was Vasu’s tournament, and his professor’s negligence came at his expense. Perhaps it was the pleading look in Mey’s eyes, but he found himself more willing to believe that she was telling the truth. After all, she wasn’t nearly smart enough to pull off such an elaborate lie. Vasu’s pulse swelled into a dangerous uptick as the words half an hour stole back into his mind.

“Okay, um…” Feeling like the world was moving too fast, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for half a second. “What do I need to do? Where do I need to be?”

Mey opened her handbag. It was a tiny little thing with an elegant clasp, and it must have been enhanced with an Extension Charm, because she withdrew a whole outfit from it. She held it out and let it unfurl into a mess of wrinkles. A sleek and super-shiny tracksuit stared back at him, and his roommate’s peculiar outfit made sudden, awful sense. The truth of the first challenge being this morning beat inside Vasu like a second heart.

Nonetheless, despite the horror roaring to life in him, he couldn’t help but admire the uniform he’d been given. The pants were simple: divided down the middle into one white leg and one red leg. But the shirt was white-and-red argyle with a K emblazoned over the heart. He took it from Mey’s hands for a closer view. Flipped it over. The name Saini stretched in a triumphant arc across the back in seafoam-green letters, and beneath it was the number twelve. It was a thoughtful gesture that took Vasu’s breath away. Twelve was his Quidditch number, chosen for the number of astrological signs. He wondered if this feature would have been added to Naomi’s jersey—if secondaries had been given them—or to any of the Quidditch players among the champions.

Mey started speaking again, and Vasu reluctantly tore his gaze away from the beautiful stitches. The feeling of being terribly underprepared and ambushed by having to compete on such short notice came rushing back when she told him to be at the edge of the forest ten minutes prior to the hour. He glanced at his father’s watch again, which never left his right wrist except to shower. Vasu almost choked when he saw the time: 9:28. He had twenty minutes to get dressed and ready. Less if he was to take into account the walk to the forest.

Mey was looking at him beseechingly, as if seeking verbal confirmation. He blew his cheeks out. “Well, yuh, I guess I’ll be there, ‘cause it sounds like I have no fooking choice.” The Birmingham accent of his English tutors was bleeding into his words full force, as it always did when Vasu was exasperated. There wouldn’t be time to snag breakfast, but despite the heretical knowledge of an already paid-for meal going to waste, that didn’t bother Vasu. His stomach was roiling with anxiety, and though he was typically a voracious eater when he had the means, he didn’t think he could choke down a morsel right now if he tried.

The dorm door opened, and the nameless roommate brushed past Vasu and down the hallway, presumably on his way to the forest. He looked sharp and bright like the glare on new steel. Probably because he’d been up since the sun and had had hours of prep time, Vasu thought with a hint of jealousy. If Mey hadn’t come knocking, he wondered, would his roommate have just let him sleep through the first challenge? What kind of sportsmanship was that? It was a vicious strategy, and then, Vasu wondered if he would have done the same had their positions been reversed.

The intrusion on their conversation galvanized him into action. “Give me five minutes. I’ll be along. Get a good seat so you can see every moment of my impending victory, okay?” It was an unconvincing attempt at confidence, and he pasted on a shaky smile. Mey grinned a little in response, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was indulging his bravado or because she actually believed in him, but it would have to be enough. Vasu was about to return to his room to change, and he had closed the door halfway when he paused. “Thank you, Mey. For caring enough to come and get me.” Especially if me not showing meant you could have taken my place—and my glory—instead.

Vasu changed swiftly, checking himself out in his roommate’s full-length mirror because it was another expense his own single mother had been unable to afford. He looked slick and a little wicked in the competition uniform, noting with some glee how it clung to his body, emphasizing his hard-earned V-cut abdominals. The overlapping pattern on the shirt reminded him of a deck of cards. Like a king of diamonds. Like a crowned victor of the arena. A pleased smile tugged at the edges of his mouth for just a moment. From under his desk, Zoya glared out at him with unimpressed apathy. With little time to waste, Vasu bustled out of the room and started down the hallway in the direction that his roommate had taken off.



























































♡coded by uxie♡
 


















Mey Sari



@
meymeymey








































  • 00:49






    scrawny



    wallows










    9:18

    :
    NOTIF


    new !




    where is he?







    9:01

    :
    reminder:


    new !




    help
    vasu in the tournament.










    !












!




details













You still like my smile.



Early mornings had always been the bane of Mey's existence. She typically struggled in the mornings, finding it near impossible to get up before 10 a.m. She wasn't necessarily a fan of laziness, but really preferred to sleep in whenever she could. This morning was not one of the mornings she would be allowed to rest. She had received a memo last night after supper, informing her that she was due to serve a detention before her classes. It was some summons from that coo-coo bananas lady they allowed to teach Care of Magical Creatures— she was unsure of how anyone signed off on allowing that crazy woman near dangerous animals, especially the ones that breathed fire and mirrored that lady's temperament.

At 5 a.m. she rolled out of bed, hardly taking time to brush her teeth(not bothering to change out of the fuzzy pants she had slept in) and made her way to the dining hall for breakfast— sitting around and doing nothing could not be done on an empty stomach. The dining hall was slow, quiet, and empty in these matutinal hours. A house elf told her it was a courtesy for them to open so early, for the quidditch teams who practiced at sunrise and the advanced students who scheduled themselves with a "zero hour" period. Quidditch, she understood. She couldn't fathom why anyone would volunteer to disturb their sleep for more school.

Not wishing to disturb the house elves who, each more disheveled appearing than the last, manned the warm breakfast stations, she instead opted for a self-serve station with options for cereal and fruit. She filled a bowl with cornflakes, sliced strawberries, and milk, choosing a seat away from the few students who speckled the dining benches. Every time she blinked, she tried to extend the moments her eyes stayed closed, savoring the morsels of rest they offered. The moments stretched with every blink, feeling more and more like the warm embrace of sleep, until her spoon tumbled out of her hand and clattered loudly on the ground. Her eyes flew open in a panic, the speedy attempt to try to silence the spoon nearly resulting in a cereal-spilling catastrophe. She blushed, suddenly aware of 5 pairs of eyes glaring at her, furious that she had disrupted their peace.

"Good morning, friend Mey," A warm, smooth voice greeted her, instantly resolving any embarrassment she felt in that moment.

"Auri!" She welcomed, her worry melting into a beaming smile. It seemed her newfound ally was an early riser this morning as well. Seeing a familiar face filled her with a rush of energy. "Good morning, sister. What are you doing awake at this hour? I am having to go to detention. That weirdo woman from creatures class has demanded it. I am afraid I have already been embarrassing Professor Vinogradov and Vasu, so I must go. I do not want to be making trouble for them." Her energy only surged when Auri shared that the Uagadou students were up early to prepare for the tournament challenge. "The tournament challenge! That is so exciting!" She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "Why are you preparing so early?" She felt her eyes open wide, nearly choking on her cereal, when Auri told her the challenge would be beginning that same morning. "Today?!" She shot up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the table. "I did not know it would be today! Is it always this early? Oh my. Professor Vinogradov had not told us! I am wondering if Vasu knows. He must, right? He is a champion after all. I hope our professor has warned him. What a terrible start if he has not!"

Movement behind Auri drew Mey back to the present moment, the hand on a large clock ticking forward. "Oh, Auri! I must be going, or I might be getting in more trouble. I hope you are having a good morning! And good luck to Uagadou in the tournament!"

Detention was boring, and the time could not pass by quickly enough. She couldn't do anything but focus on the time, now that she knew each second that ticked by was bringing the day closer and closer to the first challenge. Her leg bounced with nervous anticipation. Even if she wanted to nap, which the old woman who was assigned to oversee the early detention hour, she couldn't will herself to. She was far too wired to rest. The classroom she sat in was boring, lacking decoration outside of a small analogue clock that hung above the chalkboard. The desks that surrounded her were empty. She had been the only student to receive detention on the first day of school, and there had been no homework assigned for her to work on. Her sentence had been a hefty one too, requiring her to sit alone with her thoughts for an hour and a half.

When the old lady(who, looking back on it did not introduce herself, which Mey found to be quite rude) finally released Mey from her shackles, it was already 7 a.m.— three hours away from the challenge start. There was an order to her morning that followed.
  1. Shower.
  2. Find Professor Vinogradov.
  3. Find Vasu.
Once showering, dressing, and adding a cute braid to her hair had been taken care of, she found herself knocking on the office door of her accompanying professor, with two hours still left on the clock. The bearded man was quiet, seeming to struggle to connect with the other Koldovstoretzian professors, but he had always shown her an empathy and kindness that many of his colleagues lacked. The way he fielded her endless questions was always with patience, allowing her to voice all of her concerns before he offered her a solution. He seemed surprised to see her, but offered a reserved smile. "Halime. What can I help you with?" It became apparent through a short conversation that Vinogradov did not know that the first challenge had moved up. He got very quiet, considering what might have caused the snafu, before deciding that it must have been decided in a meeting he had missed yesterday.

It was decided, between the two of them, that Vasu must have heard something about the challenge's time change. After all, he was roommates with another champion. That Castelobruxo kid seemed so anxious that both herself and Vinogradov thought it unlikely he would risk being tardy. Together, they decided they would enter the tournament space early. Except, their theory was proven wrong.

As Mey observed the first challenge from the seats she and Vinogradov had chosen, she earnestly looked toward the section where the champions were beginning to congregate. They were too far away to hear, but by their attitudes, she imagined that they were exchanging friendly greetings, complimenting the nice weather, and maybe lightly teasing that their opponents would lose. As more and more champions arrived, Vasu's own was becoming more and more doubtful. When her watch read 9:06, she knew she couldn't sit any longer. She had to check-in with him. What if the nerves had gotten the best of him? What if he was hurt? What if he was lying in a ditch somewhere on the castle grounds?

The path to Vasu's dormitory only included a single stop: a tent that held the champions' uniforms, where upon passing by she caught sight of a familiar name. Saini, in green lettering on a red jacket that reminded her of a horse jockey's coat. In her heart, she knew this was a sign that Vasu was not up yet. She swiped it off the table swiftly, jamming it into her purse as she dashed to where she knew Vasu should be.

Mey paused at his door, weighing if there was merit in knocking during an emergency, when a shout from inside made the decision for her. No. There was not. She pulled the door open and stepped inside, finding Vasu sitting on his bed and his roommate looking very cross. Though, there was no time to analyze this. "Vasu! Bu acil bir durum! You have to get up now." The words were leaving her mouth faster than she had even intended, the pressure of the situation mounting with every second it took to explain herself. "Therehasbeenamistake.Thetournamentchallengewasmoveduptothismorningyouarebecominglateandifyoudonotcomerightnow.therewassomesortofmeetingandtheyddidnottellusandiamafraidthattheywillkickyououtifyoudonotshowupontime.whatifkoldovstoretzgetseliminated?couldtheydothat?vasu,please,putsomepantsonand—" When Vasu cut her off she heaved for a breath of air, realizing how she had failed to take one at all since arriving. His annoyance was palpable, her sentence dying in her throat. His request to speak outside was met with an awkward squeaking sound she certainly had not intended to make, but the strain in her throat made it impossible to make any other noise.

She waited for him, closing the door with respect for his roommates, who likely did not want to be a part of this. She looked at Vasu, expecting some response to her news, some sense of urgency, but instead was met with cluelessness. "Did you want something?" She avoided the instinct to bristle at his dismissiveness, reminding herself that Vasu could be snooty. It seemed to be compulsive and uncontrollable, so she couldn't outright fault him for it. Just like he didn't seem to fault her too much for her passion. She inhaled deeply. "The first challenge begins in thirty minutes," She looked at his eyes carefully, nervous to allow her gaze to travel too far. Based on how indignantly he responded, he was sure if she looked away, he might dismiss her and disappear back into his bed. She was also nervous to accidentally look at his underwear. Vasu ego could be a little fragile, and she did not wish to embarrass him. Or imply that she liked what she saw— though she certainly did not mind it.

After Vasu managed to sputter out his shock at the tournament's sudden change, she could only offer a small nod. "My friend, Auri, she told me that the professors had a meeting yesterday and voted to move the challenge up to today. To half of an hour from now." Vasu got stuck on the details, seeming disbelieving of Mey and her story. "Aurelia? The girl from Uagadou. She was in our class yesterday. She is a very nice girl— er- Professor Vinogradov was not at the meeting, so he did not know that it had been moved. I was watching all the champions arrive and you were missing and I was being so nervous for you. I was thinking that you got too scared or that you got hurt. My stomach felt silly— Honestly, Vasu, please, you must hurry!" She urged desperately. When he came to his senses, she began digging in her bag.

"Here, this is for you." She unfurled his uniform, pressing it into his hands. "The challenge is still in the forest. Many of your competitors are already there. You must hurry, Vasu. You will be there, yes?" She searched his reaction, desperate for a response before she felt comfortable leaving him. He snapped at her, though she had to allow it to roll off of her like a bead of water, knowing the stress of suddenly finding out his legacy was on the line in just over 30 minutes. She stood for a moment, unsure if she should stay with him or not. He offered some reassurance, his confident nature re-emerging, and she smiled. She would get a good seat. She was sure Vasu's performance would be spectacular. He was the Koldovstoretz champion for a reason. He would certainly obtain an early lead.

She had just turned on her heel when he beckoned her back, his voice much softer and kinder than it had been mere seconds ago. She beamed, his sincere thanks warming her heart. She resisted the urge to fling her arms around him in a hug, instead offering a small dip of her head. "You are my friend, Vasu. I will always be caring." Their words settled in the air for a moment, a soft smile exchanged between them, and the door closed.

Back to the forest it was for Mey. She could only pray that she could find a nice seat. She wanted to be sure she could watch Vasu win.








♡coded by uxie♡


 

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Ilvermorny Castle
"Uagadou! Uagadou! Uagadou!"

​
a man wearing a kc chiefs shirt and jacket
Fingers
Faith in Aurelia
The vote had been called and the decision made. Tomorrow, rain or shine, would be the day of the Octowizard Tournament's first challenge. As for what the challenge would entail, that would be revealed in time. The Kenyan rose to his feet, finally free from the shackles of the dreaded mid-day meeting. But yet, he didn't feel the usual fatigue that came with the end of a meeting. The air was pregnant with change, excitement in the air. That, and the eternally tantalizing smell of those sliders! Speaking of which, the big-bellied professor couldn't help but notice that there were quite a few left over from the meeting. And it would be such a shame if the delectables were to be thrown away with the rest of the rubbish. If only there was someone to save them from their fate? Never one to shy away from destiny, Darweshi stepped to the plate. And as soon as he did, he picked it up and made his way to the food table, intent on stacking his with the leftovers. Sharing the same opinion on waste management, Professor Danvers joined his newfound colleague with a plate of his own.

"Sorry about earlier, bud," The former heavyweight champion of Room 220 began to apologize before Darweshi put a hand up.

"Do not worry, my friend! I am just glad I will live to see another day. Live," He snatched up a slider that wasn't too dry yet. "...And eat!"

Danvers smiled in response. "That's the thing about meetings around here!" He began, collecting some leftover French fries with a pair of tongs. "There's always some news that causes people to lose their appetites!"

Together, the two Potion Masters divided the spoils of war before departing from the rapidly emptying meeting room. Darweshi stepped out with a bounty of sliders that would suffice until dinner. With that issue out of the way, more pressing matters began to weigh heavy on him. Darweshi's mind was racing, his brain focusing on creating a timeline and schedule of things to be done. Tomorrow's challenge day was pertinent information that Malaika and Aurelia needed to know about. He would need to track them down and spread the word so the three of them could put their heads together and deduce the challenge's details through the clues offered by Headmaster Bakshi. The mention of a shifting landscape and a labyrinth gave Darweshi some ideas that he could share with his students. There was also the matter of contacting Aurelia's parents about her status, so Darweshi could remain a member of the Quansah Cookie Club. Those caramel cookies had been a light in his darkness since he arrived in this foreign land. Although he had no clue where his students could be, there was a silver lining in that it gave him a chance to get acclimated to Ilvermorny Castle. This time, without being rushed by companions or panicked by uncertainty. After a few minutes of strolling through the not as congested halls and descending a flight of stairs, Darweshi found himself back where he had started earlier in the morning. The same hallways where he had emerged from the infirmary after his self-induced coma. And as luck would have it, a certain tall, slender and braided student was at the other end of the hall, in conversation with another student he didn't recognize.

The sight of Aurelia was more refreshing than the coolest cup of water. Team Uagadou's safety was now 100% confirmed. Thank Engai, both his students were surviving and thriving. As soon as Auri finished her conversation and parted ways with the other girl, Darweshi let his excitement pour out of him like a flood. "Aurelia!" His voice boomed through the hallway, quickly reaching her ears. Taking big strides, Darweshi broke the distance between the two of them until he stood before her, grinning like a joker. "My dear student, is it very good to see you! The past twenty-four hours have been quite the journey, but I hope you have been okay! I have some news to share with you and Malaika, but first, tell me about how this first day has gone so far!"

Reigning in his excitement, he gave the Uagadou secondary the chance to speak. Of course, there was no mention of her newly found sweetheart Theodore, but perhaps that would come in time. For now, game faces were required. "Just recently, I emerged from an important gathering of professors. A vote was called, and after a seer among the competing schools released a prophecy, the tournament's first challenge was set for tomorrow. And the oddest thing, the land around the school started changing shortly after the prophecy was uttered! Trees moving, an underground labyrinth, very interesting stuff. I can faintly recall a myth about labyrinths, but aren't those something you escape from? In any case, I must ask a favor from you. If you see her before I do, let Malaika know about the upcoming challenge. I have an urgent matter to attend to." After a pause, he glanced at the plate of burgers in his hand, then back to Aurelia. "And it has nothing to do with these burgers, I can assure you! Just a letter I must pen!" With that, Darweshi bid his student farewell and turned around the way he came from. It was high time the Quansah knew that their daughter was safe and sound.

...

The next day wasted no time in arriving, and Darweshi was ready for it. The Uagadou professor was used to getting up bright and early for a morning walk and prayer, but this was not Uagadou or Uganda he was waking up in. Today, he was up early for a completely different reason. Standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, a shirtless Darweshi was busy at work injecting his face with some school spirit. With the steady hand of a sculptor and the keen eye of a painter, the big man painted his face. At the moment, his visage was sporting the Mountains of the Moon, where Uagadou was located. The base was shrouded in clouds, giving off the impression that the mountain was floating mid-air. At the peak of the mountain, or Darweshi's forehead, ‘Uagadou’ had just finished being painted on in purple with some impressive calligraphy, if he did say so himself. As Malaika competed for the honor of Uagadou, he would be cheering as loud and as proud possible. And what better way was there to be loud and proud than to paint your face? Setting down one brush in lieu for a smaller and thinner one, he gave the black outline of the mountain a once over before surveying his work. Looking like a million galleon! Happy with what he saw, Darweshi then set out to put on more than just underwear. A purple robe with light blue runes running along the arms and the back was equipped, along with a pair of sandals. A fully garbed Darweshi Nyache stepped out of his room, taking a deep breath before beginning his journey to the meet-up spot he had decided with Malaika and Aurelia. When the three eventually were able to convene later in the day, it was decided that the two students were going to get some early preparation in for what was going to be an obstacle course race to the finish. Now, it was his chance to check on them, to see if there was anything he could do to assist Malaika in securing an early lead in the competition.

Everything was going according to plan. Darweshi walked through castle as students were just beginning their days as well. As expected, his face paint earned him stares from students and professors alike, but he paid them no mind. It was when he arrived at another landmark, the dining hall where he had slapped Azura Ito with a packet of papers, that the pieces began to fall apart. It all started with an ambush at the hands of an Ilvermorny employee. A young man in their signature blue and red robes was frantically looking around just ahead of the Uagadou professor when he did a double take at the sight of Darweshi.

"Professor Nyache! Professor Nyache!" He yelped in a high-pitched and urgent voice. Some surrounding passersbys froze at the sudden and loud announcement before continuing on in a noticeably faster pace. The messenger looked to be in his early twenties and bolted towards Darweshi at the speed of sound. "I have news from the infirmary regarding one of your students! It's, well, it's..."

Immediately, Darweshi's heart skipped a beat. But as much as he wanted to panic, this was not the time or place. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, he gave it a small shake in an attempt to ground him in the moment. "Easy, my friend. What has happened?"

He gulped and took a moment before continuing. "Malaika Odion. She was outside preparing for the challenge when she suffered an injury!" Darweshi's attempt at keeping calm nearly busted open, and it seemed so apparent he was about to enter hysterics that the messenger quickly added some more facts. "It-it was nothing serious! Just a sprained ankle! She's stable right now, but her injury means that Aurelia Quansah will have to take her place!"

Darweshi withdrew into himself in the wake of this massive shake-up. Clutching his ever-present prayer beads, the worried professor closed his eyes. This was quite the curveball thrown at him, especially since there were only a few hours before the race was to start. Aurelia was about to become the leading lady of Uagadou, and while Darweshi knew she was more than capable to rise to the occasion, the news of an injured teammate would drop the moral of anybody. His eyes opened up, his frantic mind slowly but slowly centering himself. Darweshi knew exactly what he needed to at the moment, what he needed to be. He had to be the cushion that eased Aurelia into the seat of responsibility. He had to be supportive and encouraging so his student could work at peak performance, but not overbearing on the firm and responsible heiress. His mind flicked momentarily to his morning preparation and with that came clarity on what to do. Giving the messenger a nod of thanks, Darweshi turned his casual stride into a full on sprint, making a frantic dash through the halls of Ilvermorny. Apologies and warnings to make way for the violet wrecking ball shot out from the Professor like a machine gun. With all speed and zero grace, Darweshi broke out onto the scene of the forest where things were being set up. After frantically asking around, a frightened set-up attendant pointed him to where the uniforms of the champions were kept. Darweshi barged in and swiped a handful of monochrome clothing with Odion labeled on before charging at a slower pace back to his room.

Once pristine and presentable, Darweshi's robe was now drenched in sweat. But that was of no concern to him at the moment. What mattered was the uniform for the 5'5 Malaika no longer being suitable for his 5'10 student. Her gear was in dire need of a makeover, and Darweshi kicked things off with the hand formation to perform a wandless growth charm. Ever so carefully, Aurelia's future uniform took a slight bump in size. Then, it was time for a more personal touch. Weaving his hands in the air in a diagonal line with a curve in the middle, Darweshi cast a color-changing charm and conjured up the colors he knew Aurelia the most for. A ray of orange light shot from a single finger as he began working on adding color to the blank canvas that was the uniform. Soon, his other hand joined in with a beam of black light, darkening the bright orange. With surprising dexterity for his size, Darweshi worked ardurously on his project. There was an hour left before the challenge when Darweshi stopped to stare at the finished product before him. His fingers were absolutely killing him, but what laid before him was well worth it. What was once black and white was now an orange uniform the color of the setting sun. The orange and black were used in combination to create the sunset effect. On the back, Odion had been colored over and replaced with Quansah and the number 1, both in white. And as a signature touch only Aurelia and Darweshi would understand, a small lioness head decorated the top of the uniform, near the neckline. Collecting his masterpiece, Darweshi ran out from his room again, on the warpath back to the forest. When he made his return, there was enough of a gathering to indicate that the challenge would be kicking off soon. It was at this point that Darweshi realized that he hadn't changed into a new robe, so his darkened pits were visible for all to see. Once again, every problem was shoved to the back of his mind. With a slow lumber, Darweshi returned to the tent and placed the uniform back where it was in preparation of Aurelia. Before he made his retreat to where the spectators were to be, a note was placed on top.

Let tem hear u ror!
- Poofesor Nyache

Hopefully, she would understand the message. He could barely hold the pen by the end of the paintjob.
 
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Ilvermorny Castle
"Snakes. I hate snakes."​

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A lone Sigurd Berg walked through the halls of Ilvermorny, intent on returning to his dorm room. It had been a long day, but it was far from over. Shortly after leaving the library with Kiara and Piper, Professor Einar had approached Sigurd with some news regarding the tournament. Thanks to Piper's efforts, the challenge's inner details were no surprise. The real surprise was the revelation that the first event would be held tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. At Professor Einar's suggestion, the Durmstrang boys were to meet together before the challenge to discuss plans. The rest of the day would require his full attention, but the young man felt the need to return to his room and take stock of his situation. Upon first arriving at Ilvermorny, his room was in an acceptable state. However, as Sigurd stepped in near the end of the afternoon, it looked as though a tornado had made its way through. Whoever else he was sharing the room with was treating it like their personal wastebasket, as food wrappers littered the floor. Of the three beds in the room, the one that was segregated from the others had the tell-tale signs of being claimed, with a suitcase and various paraphernalia in close proximity. A strange object was crouching under the bed. A closer look revealed it to be nothing more than a stuffed cat doll. The bunk bed that Sigurd was sharing with the third remaining student mysteriously had its top bunk vacated. The sheets and blankets had been stripped, leaving a barren mattress. Then there was his own bed, with his unopened suitcase laid on top. Before any contemplation could be conducted, something had to be done about this mess. While the chip bags were collected and deposited in an actual wastebasket, Sigurd took a wild guess as to who created the catastrophe. Maybe it was his remaining roommate, V. Saini according to the whiteboard that included the room's residents outside. Residue from the whiteboard indicated that previous names had been recently expunged. Maybe it was Cosmo Winter, performing a final act of defiance before returning home?

Nevertheless, Sigurd's attention was then turned to a cage placed on his desk with a tan cloth over it. The day was very touch and go, but now there was time to deal with the cage's contents. Removing the cloth, Sigurd peered into the cage to check on Svalinn, the brown rat his mother gave him on the first day of fifth-year. The rodent was pacing about his confines absent-mindedly. To this day, Sigurd was still unable to figure out his mother's motivation in getting him a pet. The idea of getting one had been hinted by her for years, but Father always shot her down. In his eyes, taking care of an animal that did nothing in return was a waste of time. However, Sigurd took to the task of caring for Svalinn like did with any task, resolutely and without fail. Zipping open the top of his suitcase, a half-empty bag of beige pellets was procured. After opening up the top of the cage, a small batch of pellets were deposited before the creature. Staring at Svalinn only long enough to see that he began to eat, Sigurd then glanced at his bed. There was quite a checklist of task to be executed before tomorrow. He needed to read up at the library, brush up on his spell work, locate the Ilvermorny gym for an early workout tomorrow. But right now, a short nap didn't seem like the worst thing in the world. Moving his suitcase off the bed, Sigurd lifted off the covers, then unleashed a startled yelp into the once quiet room. His body involuntarily jumped back in shock and an ill-placed backpedal caused the Durmstrang champion to stumble backwards into his suitcase and topple to the ground in a heap. First my elbows, then my arm, now my back, Sigurd took note of while looking up at the ceiling. After a few seconds, he rolled onto his side and got onto one knee, brown eyes pin-pointing the source of his alarm. Laying beneath his blanket, slowly uncurling itself from its comfortable coil, was a snake.

The offending reptile's beady eyes stared back, taking in this newcomer with quiet curiosity. As Sigurd rose to his feet, the snake uncurled itself at a faster pace. It raised the front part of its body, skin from its neck ribs fanning out to form a hood. Sigurd's uncharacteristic panic was then replaced with steely focus as he realized the gravity of what he was dealing with. This wasn't just some garden snake that somehow found its way into his bed. This was a cobra, a king cobra. The largest venomous snake in the world. What in the world was it doing in his room? More importantly, what was it doing in his bed, nestled under the covers like it was a burrow in the ground? Besides his own cage for Svalinn, there wasn't a single place the dangerous pet could be safely secured. Did this Saini have some sort of affinity with snakes Sigurd needed to look out for? Parseltongue was a skill that eluded Sigurd, so he had no way of communicating with the intruder. The king cobra itself hissed and flicked its tongue at him, unmoving. Sigurd weighed his options, rising to his feet to think. He could leave the snake where it was and find something useful to do, hoping that either V. Saini, the V standing for Very Irresponsible, returned to wrangle his poisonous pet away from his bed. Or, he could channel the embarrassment and frustration he was feeling to do something right now. Thankfully, the only one who bore witness to Sigurd's frightened reaction was Sigurd himself. But he still hated being taken yb surprise. However, if he tried to forcefully evict the king cobra from its claimed territory, he feared that the reptile would seek retribution or worse, seek to snuggle with him for warmth. It seemed in character for a cold-blooded animal to do. Reluctantly, Sigurd looked up at the top bunk, his new home for the time being, before grabbing a notebook and exiting the room. No rest for the weary, I suppose.
...
Today was the day. The day that would set the initial pace for the rest of the tournament. Would Sigurd be able to hold his own in the obstacle course? Would he be able to secure a win for Durmstrang on this momentous day? At the moment, the boy was wondering if he would be able to pick something to eat for breakfast before the challenge began. Ilvermorny seemed to take their meals very seriously. There were omelet stations, cereal bars with a rainbow assortment of cereals, pancakes, sausage, ham, and so much more. However, a big breakfast would not serve him well in the upcoming race. The Durmstrang champion pinched his forehead. Why didn't he consume more carbohydrates the night before? There was enough pasta in those trays last night to feed the entire muggle population of Italy, but all he settled for was some baked cod atop a modest bed of rice. Ultimately, Sigurd picked out scrambled eggs, a sausage patty and a banana as his pre-game meal. With that settled, he turned to face the rest of the dining room. There was an ache in his arms and legs, the good kind earned from a solid workout. Sigurd worked out alone, recalling Piper's injury from the other day. The two had agreed to meet in the dining hall afterwards. His teammate's tall form was visible at a nearby table, having already picked out his breakfast while Sigurd lingered to think through his life choices. Sigurd walked over to the table and had a seat across from him.

"Good morning, Piper," Sigurd greeted him while grabbing a salt shaker and adding a thin layer to his eggs. He ate as quickly as he could without looking like a pig before getting down to business. "I wrote up a list of offensive spells that could help if the need arises, but do you have any last minute defensive spells that could be useful? I left it in my dorm room, but we can grab it afterwards."

When they finished their food, Sigurd led the way back to his room. The walk over gave him time to shift uncomfortably in the uniform picked out for him. He was absolutely not a fan of the bright red spandex shirt and shorts he would be running in. At the end of the day, though, what mattered was who would be reaching the finish line first, not who looked ridiculous doing it. Sigurd made a stop at his door and opened the door before marching into the darkness to grab the sheet of paper on his desk. While on his way out, he couldn't help but notice that a certain someone was still asleep, despite the time. Sigurd thought about rousing Saini from his sleep and informing him of the day's importance, but then he remembered the little surprise he left for him in their shared room. Still, was making enemies this early a good idea? Then again, was it his fault that he was sleeping in, despite his professor most likely giving him the same news Professor Einar gave him? As if his subconscious overheard Sigurd's thoughts, Saini and his knee sprung to life, sending his foot flying with the force of a sledgehammer to catch Sigurd's in the side of his face. The boy staggered back and clutched his jaw, star-struck. And to make an uncomfortable situation even more uncomfortable, the other student took to admonishing him for the crime of standing too close. As Saini raved on, Sigurd stared at him coolly, his poker face chipping itself off with every passing second. Where did this one get off, chewing him out like this? It seemed like Piper wanted nothing to do with him as well, as the door was shut once more, the other Durmstrang boy nowhere to be found. Very Irresponsible was now becoming Very Irritating as he continued on with his threats, up until a female student opened the door and stepped in.

After taking some more time to recover from Saini's sneak attack and listening in on the other students' situation, Sigurd decided that it was time to move, stepping out of the room and heading out towards the forest. Along the way, he joined with Piper once more. The shenanigans that unfolded moments before still wore raw on Sigurd, so much that when he offered Piper the paper to peruse, it was a crumpled mess.

"Sorry," Sigurd said, half-heartedly trying to smooth the parchment out. His focus was thrown off, but it would take time to regain it. He could only hope it wouldn't be when it was too late.
 
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Ilvermorny Castle
"All work and no play makes Altair a dull boy!"​
OIP.W65QN9nNbiitT343FuoepQAAAA


Between Vasu and Theo's duel of the minds, Chitrita watching said duel of the minds with bated breath, and the house elves plotting about how to get rid of four human bodies, no one bore witness to Altair fumbling Naomi the cute Asian. Satisfied with the small victory, Altair focused on what remained of his stewed meat. Meanwhile, the conflict between the boys boiled over into a fever pitch, one that Chitrita forcefully pounded the table with her fist to interrupt. Altair turned to face his teammate as she called out Vasu and Theo for being immature and ruining the pleasant dining hall atmosphere.

"It's not his fault Theo's feeling under the weather and acting out, considering he got caught in the rain looking for his dab pen!" Altair boldly declared inside his head, because there was no way he was getting sassy when Theo was in punching distance. The Mahoutokoro student then listened on as Chitrita reasoned that there was only one way to settle things. Altair found himself almost choking on a piece of beef as Mahoutokoro's resident good girl and model student demanded to see who could make it clap the loudest. Picking his jaw off the floor, Altair stared at Chitrita. He already knew the answer, but he had to make sure this was real. "C-Chitrita, what are they gonna make clap the loudest?"

The secondary was then given an incredulous look that indicated he should know what she's talking about. Which he did. Furthermore, she then demanded that Altair be the judge. And as luck would have it, Vasu was to go first. With a smug grin directed to Theo, the Koldovstoretz student rose to his feet, walked his fine self in front of the table and turned around. Altair could barely contain his excitement as Chitrita counted him down. But instead of three, two, one, Altair heard three, two...

Layla!

Suddenly, Altair was no longer in the dining hall, about to bear witness to some good action. He was in a dull and gray classroom, filled with students gathering their things and filing out the door. Someone was shaking his shoulder, the special someone being none other than Chitrita, looking cute as usual. Altair sleepily gazed at her and covered a yawn.

"Yeah, sorry. It's hard to stay up when you have to endure two whole school days in a row!" He began, slowly getting up and gathering his stuff. "That's double the amount of one!"

Altair glanced at a sheet of paper that was passed out at the beginning of class. 'Welcome to Advanced Transfiguration'! Yet another advanced class of Chitrita's. Yay. The girl was one smart cookie, but did he really have to watch her be one all day? The rest of the afternoon had been spent attending classes and enduring pokes and prods by his classmate to keep him awake. Take notes on this, read through that, and worst of all, homework on the first day of classes! The piece of paper was careless jammed into his bag as the duo exited the classroom. The sun was definitely in need of setting at this point, the sun being Altair himself. So, if I wanted to take a nap, would we go to your room or mine? The Mahoutokoro boy desperately wanted to return to dreamland, where he could see his fantasy down to its sexy end. That's right, shake it, don't break it! Unfortunately for him, fate had other plans. For the second time in less than five minutes, Altair found the calling of his surname sharply reeling him out of his mind. Steadily approaching up ahead was Professor Ito, which could only mean one thing. Something's about to go down. On the bright side, she didn't look as upset as she did earlier. Still, there was purpose marked all over her face.

"Professor! What's going on?" Altair greeted her warmly, adding extra glaze to his sugary sweet disposition. He gestured to his pants. "As you can see, my jeans are still on my legs!" Not for long though, because he was fixing to change into some pajamas and get some sleep. Professor Ito then took the reins of the conversation and announced the second team meeting of the day. They would need to meet in the library to hear some important news. Then, without another word, she turned and began leading the way. Altair sighed and reluctantly followed, confused yet intrigued. After a dance book's worth of twists and turns. the three arrived at the spacious Ilvermorny library, Professor Ito heading to the front desk and asking about private conference rooms. Altair stood in place, uninspired to check out his surroundings. There wasn't a single comic book in sight, so looking around was a hard pass. What eventually did catch his attention was a conversation between two Ilvermorny students. The girls were seated at a nearby table, pouring over some notes. A blonde with her hair in a high ponytail looked up to make eye contact with her friend.

"Alrighty, Betty, if we're gonna land that International Reporter spot for the tournament, we need a good article that shows off our writing chops!"

Betty, a olive-skinned brunette with square frame glasses, nodded in agreement. "Of course! My idea? We find one of the foreign students, one with an interesting story to tell, and we get a one on one interview!"

Altair turned to fully face the conversating ladies, eavesdropping intently. Two girls, desperate for success? In need of an interesting foreign student with a kickass backstory? Oh, I might know a guy. With how cute the two aspiring reporters were, he wouldn't mind a two-on-one interview! The Flying Eagle rubbed his hands together at the thought of all the attention he could garner from this. Altair dabbed his pinky and thumb on his tongue and smoothed out his eyebrows just in time for Professor Ito to return, asking her students to follow her once more, this time to a secluded room where they could talk in private. Altair extended a hand out to his chances at stardom, as if they could pull him away from this upcoming meeting. Wait for me, my ladies!

The conference room had a beige wallpaper and housed three small tables that could be combined together to form a long rectangular one. Two of the three pieces were put together, enough to seat everyone. Altair sat down first on the wider side and smiled as Chitrita took the seat next to him. Maybe because she was digging him, maybe because she was still at odds with Professor Ito. Probably the first one. Meanwhile, Professor Ito sat across from them. Altair’s fatigue was staved away momentarily, fueled by the fear of what his professor would do to him if she caught him snoozing on the job. Fully locked in, the boy listened as Mahoutokoro's Potion Master briefed her wards on the outcome of a meeting of the professors. A prophecy was announced, and in an attempt to face fate head on, the first challenge of the tournament was to be held tomorrow! And going off the not so subtle hints the forest was dropping as it transformed itself, Professor Ito and Chitrita deduced that the first challenge was going to be none other than...an obstacle course. With a rejuvenated smile, Altair stood up and faced the two women in his life.

"And here I was thinking they would go with something brainy for the first challenge! But an obstacle course? Really?" Altair crossed his arms. "Just call me Coach Layla! I say we end the meeting right here so Chitrita and I can start practicing!" Athletics were squarely in his expertise! Outrunning people was a hell of a lot more fun than outsmarting them! And as an added bonus, Chitrita would have to change into some more appropriate for the outdoors. Which meant less clothing! Double bonus!
 
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  • Luca & Davos
    Crow & Fox - Males - Both More Responsible Than Altair


    Light bounced like gentle waves across the walls as the flickering flame of the bedside candles danced, their glow holding the darkness at bay as the sun had yet to make its way back to the world. Illuminated by the candlelight three figures could be seen resting upon the grand bed of the Mahoutokoro Potions Master’s sleeping chambers. She was awake and she had been for hours but neither of them minded. They both knew sleep did not come easily to her and they learned long ago that she functioned perfectly fine for a human without it. Still, as Davos lay curled up beside her thigh with his ginger and white snout resting against the midnight blue silk fabric that made up her nightgown he couldn’t help but feel grateful and he knew Luca shared his feelings.

    The blue-eyed crow and his fox companion had become all too familiar with the muted scream and desperate struggles that plagued their beloved human's sleep. Unseen monsters from her past stalked her dreams and tormented her in ways that had once been her reality. Such nightmares had been so rare before the day her mate died. Yes, this monster had existed in her life and in her dreams before that day but nowhere near as frequently as he did now. It pained the both of them to hear the monster's name escape her lips in a pained whimper the way it so often did almost every night since Akihito had never come home.

    This night, however, their Azura had only slept for a brief, yet, seemingly peaceful bit before it seemed her mind had become far too active for her to ignore. Luca had been the first to wake when she re-lit the candles beside her bed and pulled out her journal from the box she sealed it within. With her chestnut hair tied back, she dove into whatever idea it was that was racing through her mind. Occasionally Luca would flutter over as he was now and perch upon the headboard of the grand bed, his blue eyes fixed upon her work but not understanding what he saw. Her fingers would mindlessly draw gently across his inky black feathers as she worked, their movements following a soothing rhythm that he loved so very much. Every now and then she would rotate to running her digits through Davos’s thick ginger fur or over his ears as he slept on beside her or lay awake peacefully cuddling. These were the nights they both enjoyed most. The nights when their Azura felt almost whole, almost herself again, the nights she seemed most at peace as she buried herself in her work.

    Shifting his muzzle ever so slightly Davos glanced up at Luca and the two seemed to share the same feeling. In fact, they knew they did as their connection was strong with each other just as it was with Azura. The glance from the fox to the crow came with a gentle knock on a mental door, a polite request to open up so the two could converse within their minds as they had become accustomed to doing since the link was first created. Without hesitation, Luca opened the door to Davos.

    “She was better tonight…maybe it is getting better for good?” The red fox suggested with an air of hope laced into his words.

    Luca looked from Davos to Azura and back, his ebony head tilting from side to side. “Tonight she had much to think about with all that has happened. She always does better when she has something on her mind.” He pointed out, not wanting to shoot down his friend's hope but also not wanting to risk hoping himself that the emotional and mental wounds that still bled within their beloved human were finally healing.

    Davos remained quiet for a moment as he shifted and tucked his nose lower, past the edge of the nightgown just above her knees, to touch the warm skin of Azura’s leg. He found great comfort in the gesture as the warmth of her skin was proof she was still there with them, that she hadn’t been taken by the monster from her dreams or faded away in the way both creatures knew she so desperately wanted to. “Then I hope this game the human folks are playing lasts forever because I want her to feel better again.” He stated with a glance towards Luca.

    “Healing in the way she needs takes time my friend, time and hope. She has too much of one and too little of the other.” Luca explained gently as he hopped down off the frame of the bed and across the rumpled sheets to where Davos lay pressed against Azura. “I think this game provides a good distraction for her. It allows her to focus her energy and her mind and perhaps, given time, her emotions will follow.”

    Shifting a paw out towards Luca, Davos didn’t move any further for fear it might disturb Azura and cause her to shift thinking he wanted space. “I hope so…” He lingered after the words and blinked as though trying to figure out what to say next as he navigated his own emotions. “All those times I complained about Akihito being a bed hog and now all I want is for him to be back even if it means I have to share my space. I just want him back.” He huffed sorrowfully as though part of him felt guilty for ever wishing the man would just disappear.

    Hopping to perch on the offered paw Luca examined his friend with icey blue eyes. “Well, he waaaaas a bed hog.” The bird agreed in an attempt to cheer up his friend. Clearly the words did little to help. Leaning forward he gently rested his beak against the ginger fur of Davos’s side. “I want him back too. For Azura…and because I miss his stupid singing voice.” He admitted.

    The moment between the two fell into a silence that was soon broken by the woman beside them shifting in the bed to lay her journal back in its protective box and check her clock. It was still ridiculously early, the sun only just starting to pale the sky from what they could see out of the slender crack between the drawn curtains. As she stood from the bed both beings felt the gentle knock at the mental door they shared with Azura. Without hesitation, they threw the door open.

    “Good morning darlings.” She greeted them despite the fact that all three had been awake for hours. “We have a busy day ahead of us. I have some things to tend to but I have an awful sneaking suspicion Layla will have likely forgotten to set his alarm.” She sighed and shook her head as she knew exactly how distracted her student could be if given too many new, bright, shiny things or people to interact with even with his luck. “Would you two go make sure he is up and ready while I look in on Pawar?” She asked in a kind and gentle tone that almost seemed exclusively for these two. It wasn’t the tone of a professor, immortal, or inventive genius…it was simply Azura as very few saw her.

    “Of course.” Luca agreed and hopped off of Davos’s paw to ensure he wasn’t in the way when the fox stood up.

    Once his paw was cleared of Luca’s presence Davos stood and stretched, his jaws opening in a yawn that exposed his sharp pearly white teeth. “And if he is still sleeping?” The fox inquired though he was rather certain he already knew the answer.

    Azura looked over at her two companions and gave them a small and clearly slightly amused smile. “Then feel free to wake him as you see fit.” She instructed before moving to shed her nightgown in favor of an outfit she had selected the night before.

    With that Davos and Luca took off on their mission. The soft padding of paws across wood, carpet, and stone barely made a sound as Davos trekked through the halls of Ilvermorny with Luca perched on his back. They had both memorized the way to Layla and Pawar’s separate living quarters the day prior so navigating their way there took very little time, especially since they didn’t have to worry about the stairs and halls being crowded seeing as barely anyone else was awake. Upon reaching the door to Layla’s sleeping quarters Davos noted that it was closed and reared up onto his hind paws to bring his forepaws down upon the latch. A soft click indicated the maneuver had worked and with a gentle nudge forward the door creaked open giving room for Luca to soundlessly fly in as Davos padded in and looked around.

    Following the tang of salt, sweat, and deodorant that both creatures had come to recognize as Layla’s unique scent, they soon found the bed that held the still-slumbering student. Rump in the air, arms sprawled out like a murder victim, and drool lazily seeping from his mouth Altair Layla lay sound asleep with his covers thrown every which way.

    Luca landed softly on the headboard of the bed and looked down at Davos. “Do you want to wake him or should I?” He inquired with a tilt of his head.

    “I’ll give it a try but if he is too deep of a sleeper you may need to use that beak of yours.” Davos advised before crouching down on all fours and springing upwards, arching mid-air, and coming down with all of his paws pushing into the mattress making it and Layla bounce upon landing. As Davos went about bouncing on the bed, pawing Layla, and even pressing his snout into the young mans shoulder, face, and hair, Luca took flight once more. The blue-eyed crow made quick work of pulling what few covers remained on the bed fully off before once again Davos sprang into the air and landed on the other side of Layla much harder this time; the young man making it a bit into the air before thumping back down onto the mattress.



    Mentions: Altair TobiornotTobi TobiornotTobi



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 


  • Professor Azura Ito
    Mahoutokoro - Female - Half-Blood - Professor


    The pale light of dawn was just beginning to push its way through the heavy curtains of her chamber as Azura shifted in the silence of the early morning. Her midnight blue silk nightgown clung to her form like a whisper, a comforting reminder of the hours spent in bed next to her companions even though she hadn’t truly rested, not in any real sense. While she hadn’t woken in the panic that had become far too common for her, the remnants of dreams still haunted the immortal woman. However, she had learned long ago to work through them, to remain awake even when the world around her slumbered, to delve into her work in order to find sanctuary.

    It was in these quiet, still hours that she found her solace, her routine. She could pretend for just a moment that her nightmares from both years and months ago weren’t lurking in the shadows ready to claw her with the horror of her reality…the fact that her monster was still very real and very much biding his time waiting to strike again. The potions master could instead indulge in her mind which was almost always racing, in the weight of her responsibility, in the strategies needed for the days ahead. What may have crushed others with anxiety wasn’t pressing down on her shoulders like an immovable stone. She had no luxury of time to wallow in the past, no luxury of indulgence in her own grief, not when she had her students to look after and a tournament to win.

    Azura moved with practiced ease, the early morning ritual a well-worn path in the battlefield that had become her life. With a sigh, she rose from her cozy spot above the covers, the chill of the stone floor cold against her bare feet. The warmth of the room contrasted the sharpness of her thoughts, grounding her in the present. Glancing over to her bed where her two dearest companions lounged looking up at her she effortlessly reached out to commune with them. She adored both Luca and Davos with all her heart and could feel how they worried for her like a painful jab to her soul. Though their conversation was brief, simply being able to commune with her beloved crow and fox brought comfort she refused to admit to anyone else that she needed.

    With deliberate motions, she began to shed the nightgown, the silk pooling at her feet, revealing the figure beneath that was a canvas of soft naturally sunkissed skin, ink, and faded (some more than others) scars. The transition was swift, her movements efficient, a dance of precision. Black form-fitting slacks encased her legs, followed by tall heeled boots that reached just beneath her knees. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor was a soft percussion, like a heartbeat—steady, reliable. A simple black camisole followed, the V-neckline a subtle but deliberate choice, showing the delicate line of her tattoo-clad collarbone while still remaining appropriate for an educator. The final piece of her main attire was a black blazer, a tailored piece of clothing that draped effortlessly over her frame. The long sheer train fell just above her heels, swaying with her every movement as she buckled a thick black belt around her waist, the silver buckle catching the low light of morning. Her fingers then danced across her neck, where she fastened a yellow-gold locket, the heart-shaped pendant resting lightly against the skin at the top of her chest. A quiet token of love, a reminder of something lost, something dear.

    She swiftly applied her usual makeup with skill acquired over lifetimes of practice. Her chestnut hair was loosely pulled back into an elegant clip to keep it out of her way for the events of the day. Once she was finished Azura barely took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t need to. She was already aware of what she saw after decades of mastering every inch of her appearance (even the parts that pained her most). Looking back was the poised, controlled woman who could command attention with a single glance, the woman who wore her history like armor. The woman who walked into battle every day. Azura’s outward appearance mirrored the woman she had to be: strong, sharp, resilient. She hadn’t the luxury of softness anymore.

    With a swift glance at the clock, Azura took a final breath before picking up a dress bag from where it hung beside her door and leaving the sanctuary of her room. The hallway was quiet as she moved, each step carrying a rhythm of determination and seemingly in sync with the sun finally breaking over the horizon. There was no time to waste. The first challenge was fast approaching, and with it, a whirlwind of uncertainty and plans that hopefully would not go down the drain. Her first stop would of course be Chitrita.

    She found the young woman in her quarters readying herself for the day ahead. No matter what her feelings may or may not be towards the young woman before her Azura knew Chitrita would be determined to win. From what she had gathered about the Chitrita it was clear appearance was everything and she strove to appear perfect meaning she would give it her all in the challenge today. In a way it reminded Azura a bit of herself at Chitrita’s age and the thought did not bring her an ounce of comfort. Looking into her student’s eyes which did not waver to meet her own Azura stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

    “Chitrita,” she began, her voice calm, measured, “you’ve worked hard to get here. Today is yours to take, but be mindful. As we discussed last night this challenge is likely some sort of obstacle course so do not burn yourself out within the first leg of it. Pacing will be key.” She advised and as she spoke, Azura’s gaze was sharp, assessing, needing to ensure her student hadn’t been tampered with overnight. Azura needed to know that Chitrita would not suffer a similar horrific fate to that of Odinson Lockjaw. Her eyes, always searching for potential, drifted over the young woman as she sat on the edge of her bed. Her expression softened, though only just—she could still see the flicker of worry or perhaps fear in Chitrita’s eyes. It wasn’t surprising given all that had happened coupled with the magnitude of the event that would take place in just over an hour. Azura didn’t comment on the fleeting emotions she might have seen cross her student’s face. Not yet.

    “Are you ready?” Azura asked as she passed the golden student of Mahoutokoro her uniform for competing in the challenge. “Your mind is your greatest weapon today. Be aware. Trust your instincts.” Azura’s voice was low and perhaps surprisingly sincere with a hint of motherliness to her tone. Here, in this quiet space, Azura was not a professor or a Potions Master. She was a guide. A protector. It didn’t matter what past she might have with this girl or how little she might trust her, her job was to do all she could to keep her as safe as possible during this tournament and she damn well planned to do it.

    Watching as Chitrita nodded Azura lingered for only a moment longer, meeting her student's eyes with a steady gaze before offering a small nod. “Prepare yourself,” Azura said gently. “I’ll see you at the stadium.”

    After a few final instructions, she turned and left the room, the quiet hum of her own thoughts filling the space as she made her way to the stadium. The tournament challenge was soon to be upon them and she needed to make sure she was at her post before it started. As she reached the entrance of the stadium, a surprising display caught her attention and she couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at the sight before her. Cha-Cha Arif decked out in gear to support a student who was not his own, HER student in fact. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon, especially in this state. It was an amusing sight, to say the least, but also concerning in a way. Why was he rooting for a student not of his own school? Azura’s brows furrowed in confusion, though she couldn’t mask the slight shimmer of amusement that flickered within her cognac gaze. “What in the name of the gods are you doing, Cha-Cha?” she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and a touch of disbelief.

    The professor stood at the checkpoint, fumbling awkwardly with his hands as the Aurors brought in to act as security guards stared at him, clearly unimpressed by his lack of credentials. He had no ticket. No wristband. Nothing that would allow him entrance. Azura’s lips curled into a slight, bemused smile as she approached, her heels clicking against the cold stone beneath her feet. The guards parted for her immediately as she flashed them her own credentials. With a flick of her wrist, she glanced at Cha-Cha, who seemed utterly perplexed by his own predicament.

    “Seems you’ve forgotten something,” she remarked a hint of possibly playful teasing in her tone as she raised an eyebrow in his direction. Her words were just loud enough for him to hear as she passed. She was well aware of the fact that she could vouch for him to get him in if she so wished. She likely would if he continued to struggle but for now she was content to see how the young man decked out in fan gear for her student might play this out.


    AZURA'S OUTFIT



    Mentions: Cha-Cha Aviator Aviator Chitrita honeycoves honeycoves



    TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 


















Piper Katzenbach



@
piper_katzzz








































  • 03:49






    vinta



    crumb










    9:11

    :
    reminder:


    new !




    sigurd means well.







    7:17

    :
    reminder


    new !




    my head
    hurts.










    !












!




details













Wish I could go back.



Sigurd's suggestion that Naomi— or whatever fictional character Sigurd thought Piper was speaking about— was being possessed by a werewolf was unconvincing to Piper. Of all the creatures in the world, Sigurd had managed to pick the one that Piper was actually familiar with, the one that Piper had actually seen. Besides, werewolves didn't really possess you (and he was sure Naomi's case had to be some kind of possession), it was more of a complex state of being. Though, he supposed the way he describe Naomi's state did sort of sound like having a dormant beast inside, like a werewolf did. But he'd never heard of the wolf showing upon extreme emotional states, only the full moon, which was still weeks away. Even as unconvincing the intelligent guess was, it offered enough food for thought to haunt Piper for the night.

His sleep, which was difficult to come by on account of his pounding head, was plagued by the image of Naomi's lithe body bending, breaking, and transforming into an evil, hungry beast. Her black eyes would stare him down, maw dripping with drool and her fur matted with blood. He stood paralyzed every time, unable to run or scream. Unable to help. He was always unable to help. He'd bolt upright in bed, his head swimming. Sometimes, when he'd eventually drift back to sleep, Naomi was Rainer or Chip instead. When the sun rose, his eyes flew open, heart pounding and breathless. He couldn't lay in bed any longer. It was literally torture. But the daylight wasn't much better.

The light was almost an instant headache, the morning rays blurring and distorting in his exhausted vision. His outfit for the day included a pair of sunglasses to dampen the waking world. When he sat down in the dining hall, he was acutely aware of how pompous he looked, wearing them indoors. He found himself constantly looking toward the clock, his stomach not still enough for his oatmeal. When Sigurd finally joined him, he did his best to offer smile that did not look as strained as he felt and look at him— he had left his hearing aids in his room, preferring the ringing of his tinnitus over the amplified sound of large crowds— straining to read the other boy's lips.

He offered a curt nod in greeting, watching the Durmstrang champion in silence as he wolfed down eggs in the most restrained, ravenous way that reminded Piper of a robot. Sigurd was always a bit of an odd duck. Not that Piper really had room to talk, struggling to fit in and socialize himself, but watching Berg in action was strange. It was like an alien creature come to earth, unsure of the human ways. Like he was living in manual mode and nothing came naturally to him. "Um." He mused, hoping he was doing so quietly but genuinely had no idea how to gauge his own volume at the moment. He wracked his brain for spells that were likely to be forgotten by Sigurd. "Fumos, the smokescreen spell." He offered, pushing his oatmeal around with his spoon. He tried to remember whether Sigurd was good at charms or not. "O-or you could try Protego Diabolica. It's pretty advanced, though." He remembered he should probably be more encouraging than he was. "B-but if you pay attention in Dark Arts..." He trailed off, unsure of how to recover, instead letting the sentence die in the air.

The rest of breakfast was virtually silent. As was the walk to Sigurd's room. The two of them had about as much social skill as two wet napkins.

Sigurd's dorm room was comfortingly dark, prompting Piper to push up his sunglasses. He did his best to get a scan of the room as Sigurd searched for his list, surprised to see someone still sleeping. He stood at the foot of the lofted bed, peering into its contents with curiosity. He wondered if Sigurd's roommate was anyone of note to the competition, or just a secondary like himself. Should we wake him up? He thought to himself. The idea itself seemed rude, given that Piper had no idea who this guy was. Not to mention, it wasn't exactly his own or Sigurd's responsibility to rouse the guy. He backed away, back towards the door, resting his palm on the handle as he waited for Sigurd to find that stupid sheet that really couldn't be that relevant anyway. When the roommate sprang to live, shouting in a thick, British accent, Piper found himself mildly confused. He didn't recall either of the accompanying Hogwarts boys being that small. But maybe that lump under the covers had been deceiving. He watched for only a couple of moments as the boy yelled at Sigurd— Piper could actually hear what the kid was saying— before deciding he would rather not stand around and watch as Sigurd stared at the other boy with a simple, perturbed stare.

He exited and waited just outside for a few moments, when a very pretty but short girl arrived. Her, he recognized as the Koldovstoretzian girl, which meant that Sigurd's roommate must've been her champion. How could that guy sleep in like that? Piper's anxiety almost always kept him up, limiting his sleep to only a few hours a night. Being in that guy's position, he wouldn't have even trusted himself to close his eyes. He felt uncomfortable waiting outside with this girl he didn't know and opted instead to start walking toward the main doors, to the forest. Sigurd could catch up, he was sure. He was told where they'd need to go anyway.

He carefully took short, slow steps, despite how awkward they felt, to try to afford Sigurd a little bit of ground. But, really, he couldn't stall for long. They were running out of time before they absolutely had to be at the stadium. He jumped slightly when Sigurd finally materialized beside him, unable to hear his approaching footsteps, but did his best to not let his surprise and slight annoyance show. Instead, he quietly took the paper from him, avoiding too much eye contact.

The paper was crumpled, and slightly damp from Sigurd's sweaty hands. He concealed his dismay as best as he possibly could, and instead scanned the page through the list of spells. "How good are you at the disillusion charm? I read that some wizards with rare skill can be made completely invisible with it instead of having a chameleon-like effect." After saying it, he realized how ridiculous it was to expect a 16-year-old to possess that power. He examined the list for a little while longer, contemplating what he could add. Sigurd was always good in school, so offering new insight wasn't exactly easy. Piper would guess that the two of them were probably one of the more studious teams here. "It's a little unorthodox, but have you considered the floating eye curse? I know they're easy to take out, but it should slow someone down... Or the caterwauling charm. That sound be distracting." He passed the paper back. "I- I would cross out the entrail-expelling curse, though. I don't think anyone would want to deal with the fall out of that..."

When they approached the stadium, Piper stopped, pointing Sigurd in the direction he was supposed to go. "Champions enter there." The awkwardness between them was palpable, neither boy sure of what to do or say. Piper just shoved his hands in his pockets. "Good luck." He decided. "You're smart." He couldn't think of anything else and instead nodded his head slightly. When his farewell— or lack thereof— seemed to go over well, he turned on his heel and left. He side-stepped a man dressed head-to-toe in Sakura pink, with a mumbled "Excuse me, professor" that he wasn't even sure was audible, and flashed his tournament-issued wristband that designated him as a foreign secondary at a very menacing-looking gate attendee. Einar had warned the boys that aurors were now on duty around the Ilvermorny castle, after that Mahoutokoro boy had been found. Piper avoided eye contact with the woman who pressed a button, unlocking the turnstile to permit his entrance.

His blue eyes took in the growing crowed as the seconds ticked closer to the tournament's start. He wondered if he'd find Naomi in the crowd. Really, she was the only one outside of Sigurd and Einar that he even remotely knew. Everything felt overwhelming and he stood, partially paralyzed, attempting to ignore the dull thumping in his head. Then, a small, shy smile spread on his lips. He recognized someone! A different French girl. "Kiara!" He felt silly calling out her name, immediately regretting it as soon as he heard it in his own voice. His cheeks grew warm with the self-aware, embarrassed blush. He felt sillier when she looked at him with such warmth. She closed the gap between them, as it seemed his legs still wouldn't move on their own.

He tried to dodge her gaze, but remembered he probably wouldn't catch what she was saying, which would make him look like a daft idiot. "U-um. Good— good morning." He greeted. "This is uh, exciting... Right?" He felt unsure of himself, speaking to her, but he really had no one else to talk to. And, maybe being around Naomi wasn't the best choice right now. He felt a little sad admitting that maybe he shouldn't find himself in her company, but after the last time they spoke, he was worried about her safety if they were in close proximity of each other. Whatever had a hold of her was dangerous. He didn't want to hurt her. He glanced at Kiara, attempting a less tense smile. "I-it's nice out today."








♡coded by uxie♡


 










THE DEPRAVED.






























scroll


Chahaya






Arif








ㅎㅎ






























MOOD








Up To Shenanigans.























OUTFIT








Geisha Fan. Pink N' Gold Beanie.























LOCATION








Outside the Stadium.

























MENTIONS








Lyssa, Chitrita, Naomi, Theo.





















INTERACTS








Azura Sanctuaryforall1 Sanctuaryforall1





































MAYBE YOU SAVED ME —
BAD SUNS

































































































































scroll












Take whatever you're needing








Take whatever you can
We are broken from within
Run to another land.





























































MORNING OF THE FIRST CHALLENGE.



“What do you mean, 'you’re not feeling up to it’?” Cha-Cha slapped imperious hands on his hips, demanding an explanation. Lisandro Valencia gazed down at his shoes, avoiding Cha-Cha’s eyes, looking apologetic like a puppy who’s pissed on the carpet. Around them, the fog in the Ilvermorny courtyard spun and shifted in eddies, forming a diaphanous fabric that muted the moonlight and the chirping of crickets. It was fourteen minutes after three in the morning.

Cha-Cha had taken a nap as soon as the professors’ meeting had adjourned the previous afternoon, the weight of his alcoholic endeavors crashing down on him. He hadn’t woken till almost midnight, and now he lay awake, unable to sleep after having been roused from a nine-hour coma. Or, more accurately, he’d been sitting awake in the Ilvermorny quad, listening to the susurrus of wind through grass as he jabbed away at colorful pixels on his Nintendo DS. Ever since the revelation that Aurors were being stationed in intervals around the school, Cha-Cha’s souped-up chambers felt like a candy-coated trap. Surveillance work was their business, and he didn’t trust the over-the-top lap of luxury that was his bedroom not to contain some hidden spellwork or recording devices. He’d only taken a nap there this evening because his consciousness was receding fast, and a grown man passed out in the library during working hours might draw a few odd looks.

When he’d left the professors’ meeting, he’d felt like a pot about to boil over, all anger and hysteria bubbling up inside him, irrepressible. On the spur of the moment, his day had been interrupted by a summons to appear before a kangaroo court, where disagreement was met with degradation. Cha-Cha had a feeling that, while Bakshi had solicited the advice and opinions of the international staff, it had been an empty gesture to make them feel heard when the Ilvermorny administration had actually decided to proceed with the challenge ahead of time, along with all of the new hirings and firings. On top of that, he’d very nearly been goaded into a physical altercation with a representative of the host school. How is it only the first day of classes and I am this fucking tired of trying? Cha-Cha fumed, outrage leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Staying power had never been his strong suit. When he’d been young, he’d had too much of it and gone to prison when his dreams of an egalitarian Wizarding World had spilled over into violence. After his release, he’d had none of it, because there’d never been another goal in his life worth pursuing. Just cheap thrills and drinking and pill-popping to obliterate their consequences. Now, with the steep trend of students and professors being replaced, he wondered whether he would be within his right to resign. Not just from the tournament, but from Castelobruxo altogether, because he would be too ashamed to face Lorena again after disappointing her. It was certainly a selfish move—abandoning Lisandro in his time of need would likely reinforce the inferiority complex the kid already had—yet Cha-Cha was mildly astounded by how little he cared. For fuck’s sake, he’d lost his powers the first night he’d spent in Ilvermorny Castle. Either someone had sabotaged him, or it was the effect of long-term stress, but either way, the healthiest solution was distance from his problems and his enemies.

So naturally, confronted with the daunting notion of penning his letter of resignation and coming up short of ideas, Cha-Cha had concluded that inspiration might strike if he procrastinated. Of course, he knew it wouldn’t, and if anything procrastination would just dilute the urgency of what needed to be done, but escaping into a video game was too appealing an option to resist. He’d been sitting in the Ilvermorny quad for two and a half hours. Reclining in an Adirondack chair and shivering against the cool night air and shifting positions when the unyielding wood of his perch sent pins and needles prickling through his legs.

And then, out of the fog emerged a lone shape. Short, with an almost-bald head and clad in baggy school robes that could have passed for sheets, Cha-Cha almost mistook the silhouette for that of a House Elf. But as it continued its approach—during which time Cha-Cha’s hand crept toward his wand—he recognized the coffee-colored complexion and the perpetual rictus of anxiety in which the youthful features were knotted. His hands were held up to his chest, as if they were forming a shield between himself and the world, and Cha-Cha knew the fingernails would be jagged nubs bitten down to the beds. It was one of several nervous tics Lisandro had.

Cha-Cha’s mother used to tell him that there was danger in feeling sorry for yourself, because further misfortune had a habit of striking when you thought you were at your lowest. Subconsciously, he’d heeded her advice. It was his nature to banish sadness and other negative feelings with a distraction. But he’d let himself brood over the possibility of resigning from his teaching position, because making such a pivotal decision without reviewing the consequences was too irresponsible, even for him.

And now, with tears brimming in his eyes and a trembly lower lip, Lisandro informed him that he couldn’t compete in the first challenge come morning. He just wasn’t feeling up to it. Cha-Cha was typically good at keeping his cool under pressure. Exceptional, even. But this unwarranted breakdown threw him for a curve while he was going through his own silent, unwarranted breakdown, and he snapped at Lisandro. The boy drew back as if Cha-Cha had bitten him, wearing an expression that combined horror and betrayal.

Immediate guilt rushed through Cha-Cha, and he felt the anger and the fight drain from him. He’d shot to his feet at the magnitude of Lisandro’s nonsense epiphany, throwing down his DS on the chair. Now he took a step back. It was a gesture meant to placate. From Lisandro’s reaction it did not succeed. The boy was breathing in sharp, explosive jags, as if he was running a marathon and his heart was about to burst.

“Just breathe, okay?” Cha-Cha cringed at the inadequacy of his words and gestured emptily with his hands, as if that would buffer them with some more substantial, helpful advice. Lisandro looked rabid, like a mouse as a cat closes in. Cha-Cha hovered uncertainly; it was his instinct to rest a hand on the kid’s shoulder, but he was unsure if he’d get all his fingers back if he did. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna compete in tomorrow’s challenge, Lis. You just…” A crazed, helpless smile. “...have damnable timing, is all.” Less than seven hours until showtime. How am I ever going to find a new champion in time? The crazed, helpless smile evolved into crazed, helpless laughter. Bloody hell, what demon had ever possessed Cha-Cha to think therapy was his calling?

* * *​

After talking Lisandro down from the brink of a full-fledged panic attack, Cha-Cha had bought him a Gatorade and bag of Chips Ahoy from a vending machine and walked him back to his dorm. He’d texted Lyssa and Ricky about the sudden vacancy in the role of champion but kept the details to a minimum. He’d put on a convincing enough show of support for Lisandro, but Cha-Cha was disgruntled that the kid had bailed on his responsibility. After all, signing up for the tournament had been on a voluntary basis. He remembered mocking Chimere’s invalid student during the staff meeting, quipping that Badeaux had gotten “cold feet.” Who knew the words would have come back to bite? Thus, his text to the two secondaries was quick and to the point, because elaborating on the issue would have compromised both Lisandro’s right to confidentiality and Cha-Cha’s temper.

Between the hours of four and eight in the morning, Cha-Cha took several green-and-white pills, paced in his suite until a tread was worn in the carpet, attempted to write several lesson plans for a Legilimency class in which he could not use Legilimency and scrapped them all, and then played Elder Scrolls until he fell into a fitful doze and awoke to the overperky jingle of the alarm set on his phone. At eight, he turned off the television that had reverted to a blue glow from inactivity, popped two more pills, and laced up his duck boots to get this miserable day started. A cursory glance at his phone revealed that neither Lyssa nor Ricky had responded to his text. Cha-Cha was disappointed but not surprised. Perhaps they weren’t even awake yet. After all, while classes had been suspended until one o’clock today to accommodate the challenge, they weren’t required to attend the event, unlike the champions.

The next hour was a productive one for Cha-Cha. Despite the pedagogical nature of the challenge, there was no shortage of bookmakers loitering outside the stadium, and he made his bets with all of them. Vendors had set up stations in a tight circle around the perimeter of the stadium, jockeying for position. They sold all the typical fair foods, from fried Oreos to caramel popcorn to chicken on a stick to Philly cheesesteaks. And then there was the ridiculous school-spirit paraphernalia. No idea was too far-fetched; there were bobbleheads of the various champions, friendship bracelets with their names stitched in rainbow letters, beer koozies with school logos, stuffed animals of mascots, t-shirts with champions’ faces and a catchy slogan, music boxes magically enchanted to play the anthem of the winning school. It reminded Cha-Cha of Carnival and the Quidditch World Cup rolled into one. Speaking of which, one vendor sold what he claimed to be the very broomstick that Naomi De Vries had snagged a school title on.

One half hour and a shopping spree later, Cha-Cha was decked out in the merchandise of the school and champion that he had bet on. Despite the likely shame of Castelobruxo having to forfeit the first challenge, Cha-Cha had one edge over the other gamblers: He knew that his odds of winning were one in seven, rather than one in eight. Furthermore, he had the secret knowledge that a bet on Theodore was a wasted bet. After getting Splinched yesterday, the kid's chances of winning were close to nil.

A pink-and-gold-striped beanie that read pretty in pink kept the wind from whipping his hair into excessive disarray. A headband with pink pom-poms for antennae went overtop the beanie, crowning it. A necklace with flashing lights spelled Chitrita’s name, along with a handful of plain pink-and-gold plastic beads. Sunglasses in the shape of hearts that painted the world in rosy shades. A T-shirt that read “Welcome to the Chitrita Show” with the titular character drawn in anime style. And lastly, a flirty fushcia fan with cherry blossoms. The best part? Cha-Cha’s total had been so high that he immediately qualified for a ten-percent discount. Not that he would be needing it once his adopted champion won, of course. When Cha-Cha emerged from the fitting room, he looked like an overpriced J-pop concert had vomited him up.

It took several stalls before he found one with alcohol, which they technically weren’t licensed to sell on Ilvermorny grounds, but a twenty-dollar cash tip and a bright smile convinced the vendor to share her stash. Another twenty, and she was extra generous, blending Bombay, lemonade, and bubbles into a bastardized French 75 in a massive thirty-two-ounce styrofoam cup.

At five after nine, weighed down by ten pounds of Chitrita gear and the beginnings of an alcoholic stupor, Cha-Cha swayed into the line for the stadium doors. They’d been open for mere minutes, yet the line was an anaconda that switched back on itself innumerable times in a dizzying jumble of curves. Up ahead, he noted with some distaste the source of the delay: A team of Aurors in black uniforms was upending bags, checking IDs, and casting spells to detect the presence of any hidden weapons or classified magical artifacts. To shorten the interminable wait, Cha-Cha bought some biscuits in barbecue sauce from a vendor. Checked his phone, where the only new message was likely spam. Time was winding down for Lyssa or Ricky to swoop in and save the day. With a heavy feeling, Cha-Cha resigned himself to the fact that he had failed Castelobruxo.

He was almost at the head of the line when a voice hissed in his ear. Alarmed at its proximity, he jumped and almost dropped his monstrosity of a drink on the ground. There was a clatter of beads and other cheap plastic things as he spun indignantly. Clad in head-to-toe black with a long gauzy train, Professor Ito looked like an oversized raven either on her way to an emo wedding or to the funeral of a minor noblewoman from several centuries ago. With the exception of her clothes, the rest of her was bathed in hues of bubblegum and strawberry and coral from his tinted sunglasses.

He gulped down a couple sips from his bottomless cocktail, mildly annoyed that this woman would not get to the back of the line where she belonged and leave him alone. “Making some money off your champion, if the gods judge today’s contest in our favor,” he rejoined, spitting back at her the antiquated dialogue that made her sound like a leftover relic from the Roman Empire. Ito frowned at him in a way that suggested she was supremely unimpressed with his explanation. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I’m Asian. Asians love to gamble, and there’s no rule against staff participation. Just strong discouragement.” And then, because he was feeling petty and tipsy and still salty over the conflict with Lisandro, he flicked his fingers toward her outfit and added, “Are you and Gerard Way exchanging vows before or after the challenge? Can I cut the cake at the reception?” He punctuated this question with an aggressive bite from a biscuit.

“Next,” commanded an imperious, overloud voice. Cha-Cha and Ito were locked in a staring contest, but the following exhortation of “Next!” was so pointed that he instinctively turned. At the entrance to the stadium, a pale beanpole of a man with sharp cheekbones was waving Cha-Cha forward impatiently. “Identification, please?” he barked.

Juggling his drink, plate, and fan into one armload, Cha-Cha produced both the standard ID he used in the Muggle world and his Castelobruxo one, which was printed in Portuguese.

Beetle-black eyes zeroed in on him. “Neither of these is Ilvermorny issued,” the Auror replied in the testy manner of one with hours more of tedious work ahead of him.

Cha-Cha briefly thought of holding up his forbidden cocktail and responding, No, but this is. Instead, he said, “I’m with the Castelobruxo team.” And then, remembering how Vasu Saini—dumbass that he was—had mistaken him for a student, Cha-Cha specified, “The Castelobruxo professor. I’m chaperoning the champion.” Who has failed to make an appearance this lovely morning.

“You should have been issued a wristband,” the Auror continued without a flicker of expression. Cha-Cha was starting to suspect that issued was this man’s favorite word. “The wristband is your ticket to the stadium.”

I should be sitting my twink ass in a seat right now with my feet kicked up, Cha-Cha thought irritably. “I was not.” Most likely because he had fled the meeting as soon as it was adjourned and slept soundly through the next nine hours. Had Bakshi purposely waited until Cha-Cha was gone to distribute wristbands to the challenge? Maybe, but that wouldn’t change his current predicament. He flashed the Auror an indulgent smile. “Please, there must be some kind of mistake. I’m sure there’s a seat reserved under the name Arif?” Perhaps it was just Cha-Cha’s imagination, but the chatter from the people behind him suddenly dropped off, the quiet taut as sails in a strong wind at the utterance of that sacreligious name.

The Auror stared at him sternly. Gave a disquieting pause, as if he were thinking that there was a cell in Azkaban reserved under the name. “Sir, if you do not have a wristband or an acceptable form of ID, I’m going to have to ask you to get to the back of the line.”

After I waited almost an hour in line and traveled halfway around the world to see this competition? Oh, hell no. Cha-Cha seethed internally. Fine, then. He would have to convince the Auror. His Legilimency might not have been accessible at the time, but he didn’t need actual magic to hypnotize someone. Hypnosis was mere human conditioning. Cha-Cha slid his sunglasses down his nose so that his eyes were visible and took note of the man’s posture. Militant, squared shoulders, leaning forward just a little bit as if prepared to ward off a threat. Cha-Cha observed the Auror’s breathing and matched the pace of his words to its rhythm, elongating them subtly. “Standing for so long must get tiresome on the feet,” he started slowly, deliberately. He fluttered his cherry blossom fan in unhurried arcs, a visual cue. “What if you were to imagine your feet relaxing? From your heels to your toes, you feel—”

“Sir? Excuse me, you need to get to the back of—”

There was a slight uptick in his seductive batting of the fan. “—a pleasant numbness in your feet. Allow that feeling of relaxation to move up to your ankles and your calves, and—”

The Auror started to go for his wand, and it was very clear that relaxed was the last thing he felt. “Sir, this is your final warning. Please step aside, or else I will be authorized to use—”

But Cha-Cha plunged on heedlessly, feeling bold and defiant and unwilling to take no for an answer. He hated Aurors, and he hated Headmaster Bakshi for implementing them in what felt like a very targeted move. Moreover, he hated feeling helpless, and successfully hypnotizing the hotshot law enforcer in front of him was about proving to himself that he was anything but. Cha-Cha lowered his voice slightly, so that it was just on the edge of hearing and his victim would have to strain a little to make out the words. He utilized the fan like a professional geisha training for this moment all her young life. “Imagine a blanket of relaxation working its way up your knees and settling over your thighs until the muscles there are frozen. Take a deep breath. Have you ever noticed that there’s a hitch between your inhale and exhale?”

The Auror’s eyes dimmed, like a cloud passing in front of the moon. His lips had parted to say something, but no words came forth. His shoulders slumped half a degree.

Cha-Cha brightened, seizing upon the sign of weakness like a shark with the scent of blood in its nose. But he didn’t let his glee creep into the steady cadence of his voice. He was on a roll, unstoppable. He had the man’s will in the palm of his hand and it was time to make a suggestion. “Now I’d like you to remain frozen while I—”

He didn’t dare rip his eyes from the ensared, vacant pools of his prey. So he didn’t see what direction the blast of light that hit him came from. Only heard a bellow of “Langlock!” erupt from somewhere to his right and behind him. Cha-Cha cut off with a wet gurgle as his tongue was suddenly affixed to the roof of his mouth. And then there was a beefy hand collaring him around the back of the neck, another on his shoulder. Together they pressed down, driving him to one knee into the grass. Cha-Cha gave a little inarticulate cry as the plate of biscuits, cherry blossom fan, and—no!—family-size cup of alcohol tumbled from his hands. The heart-shaped sunglasses flew off the bridge of his nose, and he squinted against an unabated stream of sunlight.

“Is there a problem here?” growled a low voice from behind him, the owner of which he could not see.

Yes, you dumb fuck, my Bombay and bubbles is on the ground and although it is lidded it will LEAK from the straw! Cha-Cha mentally wailed in despair. Of course, rendered speechless as he was, he necessarily did not respond. Aside from a little gulp of fear—which, as Cha-Cha quickly learned, is somewhat uncomfortable to do with one’s tongue stuck to the roof of one’s mouth—as he wondered whether he was about to be arrested.




























































♡coded by uxie♡
 
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