Fandom &nbsp; ♛. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐄 ❜ ic

interactions

silas, celeste, luther

tags

leviohsa

Victory

As he walks through the streets of London, the Charms professor keeps his head down. Muggles of all walks of life pass him by. Women, children, foreign soldiers. It pains him to see the dark circles and haunted looks in their eyes. The war would surely be over if the Minister of Magic had not passed regulation to forbid magical involvement. It frustrates Charles beyond belief, and he does what he can despite this, but now is not the time. Another year of teaching at Hogwarts approaches and Charles has a laundry list of tasks to complete before September's arrival.

Charles manages to squeeze his way through The Leaky Cauldron. A chance at meeting the Chudley Cannons nearly tempts him to stay, but the team is only third on his list of favorites. The main street of Diagon Alley is just as packed with witches and wizards as the pub. It is in moments like these that Charles is grateful for his height and size. Others tend to give him a wide berth, and he rarely ever has trouble seeing over anyone's head. It also makes him very easy to spot, which will come in handy as Charles approaches the spot he has plans to meet a few of his colleagues at.

Standing in front of Flourish and Blotts, the quarter-giant thankfully does not wait long for his company to arrive. He grins when Silas breaks off from the crowd and approaches him. Charles offers the Astronomy professor his hand to shake and greets him,

"I hope the hour was late enough for you, friend. How have the stars been?"

Shaking his hand, Silas responds with a small smile, "Intriguing as ever, I'm afraid. Kept me up much later than expected. And how are you? Ready for another year?"

"Ready as I'll ever be,"

Charles answers with a laugh.

"Headmaster Dippet offered me Head of Hufflepuff starting this term. Needless to say, I will be begging Sophia for advice all year."

Their other companions arrive shortly after.

"It is good to see you both!"

Charles offers Celeste a happy smile, and Luther a firm clap on the back.

"This place is a madhouse, isn't it? The discount gets me every year. I wouldn't endure these crowds otherwise."

He sighs and turns to gesture towards Flourish and Blotts when something catches his eye.

"Is that..."

Charles frowns as he looks across the street from them. A small boy, a first-year if he has to guess, and his very obvious Muggle mother are speaking with a particularly shady pair of wizards. Something about them looks... familiar.

"That wizard over there. The taller one talking to the boy and his mother. Doesn't he work at Cobb & Webb's?"

OrpheusTalks · Feb 1, 2024

.
.

XI.
the Chudley Cannons

Markus
mood
anxious/excited

location
the Leaky Cauldron

interactions
open

tags
Victory , thehighpriestess , MalfoysSecret
In the bustling, noisy atmosphere of The Leaky Cauldron, Markus stood above most cept a few individuals, as a towering boyish figure of barely contained excitement and nerves. It was a significant day, a pivotal moment that he had been anticipating for weeks. The Chudley Cannons, not the Falmouth Falcons or the Kenmare Kestrels, but the bloody Chudley Cannons, were hosting an event. His father had threatened to hex his mouth shut the last few days since he could barely shut up about it; it was a stepping stone towards the future he envisioned, a future soaring through the skies as a professional Quidditch player. Not giggling over wands all day and managing a store.

His appearance, usually carrying an air of casual nonchalance, was noticeably different today. His dark brown hair, which typically sported a look of deliberate disarray, was somewhat more composed, betraying his efforts to make a good impression. His eyes, a striking shade of deep blue, shone with a mixture of excitement and an uncharacteristic hint of anxiety.

Among the warm gaggle of wizards and witches, the air rich with the scent of butterbeer and magical excitement, Markus felt a surge of heat flooding through him. He fidgeted with his shirt, the fabric sticking slightly to his skin, his growing eagerness manifesting itself into making him a sweaty mess. Overwhelmed by the warmth and the building nervous energy, he shrugged off his ironed jacket and a bright orange scarf, something he'd only brought at his mothers insistence since it was the teams color , and tossed it carelessly over a nearby chair.

Standing there, amidst the buzz of eager conversations and the anticipation of meeting his Quidditch heroes, Markus experienced a rare moment of self-consciousness. He was, after all, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain – confident, skilled, and admired. Why was he nervous when his entire plan was to one day be sitting in those very same seats, wearing that outrageously bright color? He tried shrugging off the unfamiliar flutter of anxiousness.

As Markus stood amidst the grouping of excited fans, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander , searching for familiar faces from school, besides the ones he'd seen already. Actually, he thought, just one in particular. Though, he doubted she'd be here. Big groups of people and Quidditch were neither of her favorite things, and she wasn't someone he imagined looked for the best deals on items. If he wanted to see her before term began, it would have to by chance after the event or during the train ride.

He shook his head, dispelling the thought of her and of his nerves as best he could. He needed to get it together. If Pen or Tomblaine noticed how much of a prat he was being, he'd never hear the end of it during the ride back to school.

With a subtle adjustment of his position, he craned his neck, peering over the shoulders of a few smaller witches beside him, looking to where he'd last spotted his favorite teammates. He could have sworn he'd seen a mop of dark roots with blonde hair somewhere behind where Tomblaine had been, bobbing along in conversation. He also thought he might have spotted another face, not one he was overly familiar with personally, but at least aware of. A Ravenclaw if he remembered correctly.

Still, he was sure if Pen been swept up into the crowd by now, he would have heard a torrent of swear words somewhere and seen a small body waving its arms around and making a scene.

The line continued to creep forward, but the thought itself made him let out a deep, tired sigh.

Merlin, she better behave at least before they met the damn team.

designed by bad ending & coded by xayah.ღ

leviohsa · Feb 1, 2024

astronomy.

silas thorne.

as it was

location

Diagon Alley

outfit

super cool clothes

interactions

charles, celeste, luther

tags

cwosont

Victory

Silas couldn't help but agree with the new Head of Hufflepuff. The werewolf was never the biggest fan of Diagon Alley, especially when the tensions of war from all sides seemed to hang over the marketplace like a dark cloud. If anyone here noticed it, they did their best to ignore it. As Luther and Celeste arrived, and Charles continued with his greetings, Silas gave his coworkers a more subdued, yet polite smile and wave. It was always abundantly clear that the werewolf did his best to remain out of focus in social gatherings such as these, but even he knew not to be rude to his otherwise friendly coworkers.

In response to the half-giant's comments about the crowds, Silas finally decided to speak up, "I'll say... I am quite ready for a drink." However, the group's plans to relax and get refreshments was swiftly cut off by Charles,

"That wizard over there. The taller one talking to the boy and his mother. Doesn't he work at Cobb & Webb's?" The notion made Silas frown, his brows furrowed as blue eyes follow Charles' gaze. Sure enough, there was a muggle woman and her wizard son interacting with... less than trustworthy folk. It made him sigh,

"Hard to tell, but I believe so... What business does he have with a muggle and her child?" Being a father himself, the urge to intervene grew more intense as the moments passed by. The boy couldn't be older than eleven, and the two wizards seemed to loom over the pair. Silas' scarred features met the younger faces of his cohorts behind him as he spoke up,

"I think it would be best if I join their conversation." While phrased as an idea, his tone of voice was firm. With visible scars, and his lycanthropy known by many in the wizarding community, the Ravenclaw knew that his chance of getting rid of these leeches would be much higher than most.

Charles was the first to respond, "I don't doubt they're up to something... unsavory. Perhaps we should intervene..." Silas nodded, getting ready to walk over until Celeste spoke up,

"They are in a public area, maybe they'll back off?" Celeste hesitated, not wanting to cause a bigger scene, "We could keep an eye on them for now. It doesn't seem they've noticed us watching yet." Silas seemed apprehensive, turning to watch the boy and his mother.

"It is public areas such as these that make it easy to be overlooked... However.." Blue eyes stayed glued to the child as he spoke. "You're right. Observing them is a much safer option." The Astronomer sighed in resignation, knowing that she was right. It would be a bit overwhelming for a group of wizards to join in on what seems to be an already uncomfortable conversation. He knew what it was like to lose a child, and he could admit to himself that this may be impeding his better judgement.

cwosont · Feb 1, 2024

slytherin

NOÉMIE LESTRANGE.

human

location

the daily prophet

outfit

but less cleavage

interactions

medea

tags

ghostlynarcissus

Shadow Alpha

Cygnet

The Lestrange manor is unusually quiet for a Sunday afternoon. Her mother is locked away in her room, her father in his office. Even the house-elf keeps to herself as she cleans the laundry and dusts the house. Noémie feels almost unnerved by the silence, but preparing to leave distracts her from the loneliness of it all. She has no intention of remaining cooped up on her last free Sunday before the new term. So, she approaches her fireplace and reaches for the bowl of Floo powder. Noémie disappears in an eruption of green flame moments later.

The Slytherin coughs her way out of The Leaky Cauldron's own fireplace. The sheer number of witches and wizards huddling inside makes her scowl and search for the quickest exit. Noémie does not even bat an eye at the Chudley Cannons and their overcrowded meet and greet. The Holyhead Harpies are far superior, anyway. She pushes her way outside and joins the traffic heading down Diagon Alley's main street. Noémie pulls out her very long shopping list and decides heading to Gringotts first for a few extra pieces of coin would do her some good. Better to be safe than sorry.

As she walks, Noémie spots the small newspaper stand outside of The Daily Prophet and decides to make a stop. She knows her father would not be giving up today's paper anytime soon. She makes a point to ignore the brightly dressed witch beside the stand, but that does not stop her from speaking to Noémie all the same.

"You there! Ya look like a bright young witch! Or am I wrong? Can't be too certain these days. Youth potions are all the rage!"

Noémie frowns as she regards the woman and answers,

"I'm in a hurry, so if you're trying to sell something I'm not interested."

"No, no! Not selling anything. Just a journalist lookin' to interview some young folk about all this Grindelwald business." She answers with a twirl of her quill. "Swear it won't take long, if you're interested! I'll even throw in a coupon for a free scoop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour~"

She considers the witch's offer. Noémie does have several thoughts on the current political climate. She also has a million other things to do, but her name in the paper would only do her some good. She waves her hand dismissively and responds,

"I'll answer a few questions. You can save the coupon for some other poor fool."

The woman leads her inside The Daily Prophet and into a medium-sized room with several chairs surrounding a single desk. "Grace Fenner, by the way! You sit here and I'll be back once I've reeled in a few others!"

"Others?"

Noémie repeats in disbelief, but the witch is gone before she can protest.

"Absolutely ridiculous..."

She huffs, crossing her arms.

"I don't have all day."

Thankfully, it does not take long for Grace Fenner to return with her next victim. Noémie turns in her chair and looks up to see Medea of all people enter the office. She shakes her head and looks away from the Ravenclaw as she speaks,

"Welcome to the waiting room, Selwyn."

ghostlynarcissus · Feb 2, 2024

M e d e a

M

edea Selwyn, nearing the end of her seventeenth summer, walked the bustling lanes of Diagon Alley with her head held high and pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses perched elegantly on her nose, an accessory as functional as it was fashionable. They were her armor during any public outings, a barrier that allowed her to conceal the emotions that might flicker across her eyes.

The rest of her outfit wordlessly spoke of her lineage, a subtle show of wealth woven into the fabric. Her dress, a rich shade of dark blue, with a white peter pan color, embraced her form with a modesty befitting a young witch of her standing. It had careful tailoring, the kind that spoke highly of the Selwyn's deep coffers, and perhaps the vanity most purebloods held. Her black oxford shoes, shining with careful attention, tapped a steady rhythm against the cobblestones, blending into the noise of the busy street.

Medea's head however, was far more chaotic than her outward grace suggested. Her mind was assaulted by the mental chatter of the people around her. The wonderings of children, mostly nonsensical curiosity and innocence, intertwined with the gruff arguments of elder wizards and the shrewd calculations of shopkeepers. These voices, uninvited and unwelcome, beat against her brain and threatened to overwhelm her.

Intent to reclaim her peace, Medea closed her eyes. The world paused, at least for herself with no one wiser at the battle she was waging behind her lenses. Within the sanctum of her mind, she reached inwardly. She could see them all, connected to her like a thousand strings attached to the endless marionettes they were with her as an unwilling puppeteer. And all at once, she cut the cords. The thoughts of others became muffled echoes slowly, their intrusions repelled by the fortress she began to create. Higher and higher she built the invisible wall the strings couldn't connect to, one she'd built countless times since she was young enough to remember. Soft green eyes flickered open once again, the storm within abated, Medea exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Her gaze, now steady, peered over her lenses and settled on a piece of parchment in her grasp. It was a list of mundane school supplies, but to Medea, it was the script of her future. The books and materials listed were keys to unlocking the final chapter of her time at Hogwarts, one that started with her as a Head Girl. The new title was more than a badge of honor and responsibility. It was her ticket out of hell.

She envisioned a future made by her own hands, free from the limits and shackles of the Selwyn name. The Ministry of Magic, and work as an Unspeakable loomed in her future where she could rid herself of her past and take on whatever identity she damn well pleased.

Freedom. Power. Anonymity.

With each step , Medea held the parchment closer, like some sort of talisman as she navigated through the crowds of shoppers and curious onlookers that filled Diagon Alley, her body language remained poised and showing no desire for any company on her mission.

So when a brightly dressed witch broke through the invisible barrier Medea had erected around herself, it was certainly a shock. The witch, draped in robes of vivid colors that made the younger witch dizzy, seemed oblivious to Medea's less than friendly demeanor. With a smile that was both eager and disarmingly warm, she approached her.

"Pardon me love, think I might borrow some time?" She began, nearly breathless with excitement." I'm a reporter, for the Prophet. I'm looking for a few opinions about what's going on with Grindelwald."

The sudden intrusion into her personal space caught Medea off guard, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before being quickly masked behind her usual, composed exterior. Despite the sunglasses hiding her eyes, the slight tension in her jaw and the rigid set of her shoulders conveyed her discomfort with the unsolicited interaction.

The witch was either purely oblivious or far too chipper to be undeterred by Medea's cold reception.

"Won't take too much time, I promise." She said, her voice tinged with the sort of earnestness that was hard to dismiss outright.

Without giving any outward indication of her intentions, Medea took a small, rather innocent peek inside the older woman's mind. It was a quick delve, barely skimming across surface thoughts and memories. They unfolded before her—a collage of mundane memories, late nights fueled by cups of tea, frustration, envy and a desire to get all the information she could.

In those fleeting glimpses, Medea found nothing that hinted at malice or deception. The reporter's intentions seemed as straightforward as her smile suggested, at least as far as a quick little glance could see.

The woman blinked a bit in confusion, her smile still lingering as she waited for Medea's answer in the silence that lingered between them.

With a subtle sigh, one so faint that it barely disturbed the air, Medea relented just a fraction. "Very well," she murmured, her voice carrying the faintest hint of reluctance. "But make it quick. I have things to attend to."

The reporters enthusiasm seemed to know no bounds as she clapped her hands together excitedly, the gesture full of anticipation for the interview ahead. With a brisk motion, she beckoned Medea to follow, leading her into the bustling heart of the Daily Prophet's office. The air was filled with the scent of ink and parchment, the walls adorned with moving photographs of recent news events, each vying for attention with their animated figures and flashing headlines.

"I'm Grace Fenner, by the way," she introduced herself with a cheerfulness that was much too infectious for her liking , to which Medea responded with a polite, nod. Grace's next words, however, caught Medea off guard. "I've got a couple more folks I need to grab, and then we can get started."

More participants? Medea's mind raced, her initial assumption of a brief, one-on-one interview quickly unraveling. What sort of article was this turning into?

Before she could voice any of concerns or objections, Grace had already vanished through a door, leaving instructions hanging in the air like an unfinished spell. Medea found herself propelled forward by the momentum of the situation, stepping into a waiting room only to come face-to-face with a familiar figure.

"Welcome to the waiting room, Selwyn," greeted Noemi Lestrange, the Slytherin Head Girl. Her tone felt like it carried a mix of resignation and dryness, suggesting that she was possibly just as enthused about the impromptu gathering as Medea.

"Lestrange, " she replied simply, as if her presence was hardly a surprise, keeping her sunglasses perfectly in place.

As Medea took a seat, maintaining a composed exterior despite the swirling questions in her mind, she couldn't help but wonder about the nature of the interview. Surely they would be asked for their names. She'd have to omit hers of course, any sort of article her father might read without it being reviewed and allowed would likely earn her a proper Howler.

All she could do was try to keep her thoughts to herself...and her own head from seeing any others. She very much doubted her neutral relationship with Lestrange would continue its impartiality if the girl felt an intrusion in her mind. So she worked a little hard, rebuilding that wall around her mind as she waited for the next participant to enter.

MOOD

impatient

OUTFIT

here

LOCATION

Diagon Alley-Daily Prophet

tags

comfortable

Historia Calamatium

It wasn't the first year Lycus went shopping alone in Diagon Alley — in fact, his parents had never accompanied him past the first time he had to go, partly because he didn't need to go, you see, since they had more than enough house elves to run errands for them, and partly because his parents so hated the plebeian crowd they had to mingle with thanks to the discount season. But Lycus went anyway, since his Third Year he'd been going, because he liked participating in this objectively mundane ritual regardless of his parents' distaste. They didn't forbid him though, and he was free to do whatever he wanted — a constant theme in his life, for he was the last-born and thus bore no significant responsibilities like his brother and sister.

These last few years, Lycus wasn't entirely alone. He was frequently accompanied by Antares Black, a friend whom he'd known since they were fairly young. Young enough that he couldn't really remember how they met. Anyway, they had just spent some time testing out new robes in Madam Malkin's, and Lycus, after nit-picking every single detail he could lay eyes on, finally decided on his sets for the year. If Antares was somewhat exasperated and impatient, well, Lycus did gift him a new pair of cufflinks, so they were even.

"Are you going to get something this year? A cat, perhaps?" Lycus asked offhandedly. They were heading toward a pet store — Lycus wanted to get Vinny a best mate, perhaps some sort of lizard — and it was only practical for Antares to buy something as well. As far at Lycus knew, Antares didn't have a pet, at least not recently, and that was such a shame. "Unless you're allergic," he added. "Actually, are you allergic? If you are, you've hidden it exceptionally well."

The street grew crowded in the blink of an eye, so quickly that Lycus almost tripped over someone's coat. He and Antares were pushed closer together, squished in the middle of dozens of other witches and wizards. Lycus scowled at the loss of personal space — normally, he wasn't one to mind physical touches, but that was only in the most intimate of settings. When strangers, these dirty people with dirty clothes and dirty blood, rubbed against him like that, Lycus Malfoy was very much displeased.

"Merlin, is there a celebrity or something?" Lycus mumbled. Caged within the moving throng of people, Lycus could only go with the flow and hope that he'd pass through this bottleneck.

Soon, the reason for the thick crowd made itself known: a man standing on a soapbox was preaching Grindelwald's new world order. Lycus' pace slowed to a stop, similar to the others around him, intrigued by the speech.

" . . . superior in all manners, so why must we hide in the shadows like cowards? These Muggles — they think they dominate this world with their silly inventions and daring politics. They strip away all that is good and beautiful about this world that we live in, and throw away traditions that have lasted for centuries, millennia, for the sake of 'progress'. Look at their progress! Small, moldy houses. Dirty, polluted cities. Men with no honor, women without virtues. All they can do is breed and breed until they've covered every inch of this world with their dirty blood. We have to fight, fight to take back what is rightfully ours, fight to let these Mudbloods see how delusional and pathetic they actually are. We fight because we care. And Grindelwald cares! He understands this unjust world more than anyone else . . . "

The charisma of the speaker pulled Lycus into the rhetorics, and he found himself nodding along. It was, frankly, less about the reasoning and more about the opportunity to be part of something bigger than himself. Lycus had always been drawn to things like that. A grandiose purpose. But he wasn't about to shake hands and sign up to be a minion — no, he was a Malfoy, and he would bow to no one. There was also the fact that he wouldn't make moves like this without his parents' instructions.

"He sure knows a lot of big words," Lycus spoke, head leaning slightly toward Antares. "My parents aren't terribly excited about this Grindelwald, not yet at least. They want to wait and see first. Yours?"

coded by reveriee.

It wasn't the first year Lycus went shopping alone in Diagon Alley — in fact, his parents had never accompanied him past the first time he had to go, partly because he didn't need to go, you see, since they had more than enough house elves to run errands for them, and partly because his parents so hated the plebeian crowd they had to mingle with thanks to the discount season. But Lycus went anyway, since his Third Year he'd been going, because he liked participating in this objectively mundane ritual regardless of his parents' distaste. They didn't forbid him though, and he was free to do whatever he wanted — a constant theme in his life, for he was the last-born and thus bore no significant responsibilities like his brother and sister.

These last few years, Lycus wasn't entirely alone. He was frequently accompanied by Antares Black, a friend whom he'd known since they were fairly young. Young enough that he couldn't really remember how they met. Anyway, they had just spent some time testing out new robes in Madam Malkin's, and Lycus, after nit-picking every single detail he could lay eyes on, finally decided on his sets for the year. If Antares was somewhat exasperated and impatient, well, Lycus did gift him a new pair of cufflinks, so they were even.

"Are you going to get something this year? A cat, perhaps?" Lycus asked offhandedly. They were heading toward a pet store — Lycus wanted to get Vinny a best mate, perhaps some sort of lizard — and it was only practical for Antares to buy something as well. As far at Lycus knew, Antares didn't have a pet, at least not recently, and that was such a shame. "Unless you're allergic," he added. "Actually, are you allergic? If you are, you've hidden it exceptionally well."

The street grew crowded in the blink of an eye, so quickly that Lycus almost tripped over someone's coat. He and Antares were pushed closer together, squished in the middle of dozens of other witches and wizards. Lycus scowled at the loss of personal space — normally, he wasn't one to mind physical touches, but that was only in the most intimate of settings. When strangers, these dirty people with dirty clothes and dirty blood, rubbed against him like that, Lycus Malfoy was very much displeased.

"Merlin, is there a celebrity or something?" Lycus mumbled. Caged within the moving throng of people, Lycus could only go with the flow and hope that he'd pass through this bottleneck.

Soon, the reason for the thick crowd made itself known: a man standing on a soapbox was preaching Grindelwald's new world order. Lycus' pace slowed to a stop, similar to the others around him, intrigued by the speech.

" . . . superior in all manners, so why must we hide in the shadows like cowards? These Muggles — they think they dominate this world with their silly inventions and daring politics. They strip away all that is good and beautiful about this world that we live in, and throw away traditions that have lasted for centuries, millennia, for the sake of 'progress'. Look at their progress! Small, moldy houses. Dirty, polluted cities. Men with no honor, women without virtues. All they can do is breed and breed until they've covered every inch of this world with their dirty blood. We have to fight, fight to take back what is rightfully ours, fight to let these Mudbloods see how delusional and pathetic they actually are. We fight because we care. And Grindelwald cares! He understands this unjust world more than anyone else . . . "

The charisma of the speaker pulled Lycus into the rhetorics, and he found himself nodding along. It was, frankly, less about the reasoning and more about the opportunity to be part of something bigger than himself. Lycus had always been drawn to things like that. A grandiose purpose. But he wasn't about to shake hands and sign up to be a minion — no, he was a Malfoy, and he would bow to no one. There was also the fact that he wouldn't make moves like this without his parents' instructions.

"He sure knows a lot of big words," Lycus spoke, head leaning slightly toward Antares. "My parents aren't terribly excited about this Grindelwald, not yet at least. They want to wait and see first. Yours?"

sunny.days · Feb 2, 2024

hufflepuff.

jesper pearce.

are you bored yet?

location

magical menagerie

outfit

baddie clothes

interactions

atlas

tags

Cygnet

ghostlynarcissus

Diagon Alley was always a welcome sight at this time of year. Attracting more people than the streets could arguably comfortably allow, the eager dance of the crowd beckoned a time of new beginnings and fresh starts. Jesper happily scurried along, patiently letting the wave of witches and wizards take him through his shopping list.

“I think it’s about time we get you a toad.”

Jesper peered to face the company to his right, presenting a forced expression of nonchalance that swiftly failed to fight back the slightest jitters of a mischievous smirk. At his side was a very particular Raven, flown all the way from America, who had made for an unexpected but fascinating friend throughout the years. Hufflepuff’s newest Head Boy was rarely a person of demands, lest, of course, with the intent of teasing a peer. Current victim: Atlas.

“Now, I’m not saying that Mr. Hoot isn’t good company–on the contrary, he’s a lovely lad, very graceful and all. However,” Jesper briefly halted his nonsensical blabberings–a common trend considering his thoughts and fantasies were rarely left within the comfortable confines of his head. His hand reached for the collar of his coat, pulling it aside to reveal a tiny toad sitting snugly in his breast pocket.

“Look, Atlas–look at his little face. You simply cannot tell me that a slimy friend like this wouldn’t brighten your life.” Bixby let out a raspy ribbit of content as Jesper gently stroked their head with his index finger. The Hufflepuff allowed the jacket to fall back over his companion before continuing his time-filling ramblings.

“I mean, think about it: they make for wonderful study buddies, you can teach them all about magical creatures, and you’d be blessing Bixby over here with a new best friend. Food for thought, is all I’m–”

As if the fates were wanting to release Atlas from this state of twilight, a sudden commotion abruptly cut off Jesper right as they reached their collective destination. “Well, speak of the devil” he muttered, slightly overtaken by the visual of various critters, including a multitude of toads, rushing out right past his feet. The sight alone had already warranted Jesper to reach for his wand, though the shouts for help coming from the shopkeeper were sure to speed up the process.

For a moment, Jesper entertained the idea of tailing the very obvious perpetrators of this ill-fitting mischief. He was never one to be allergic to a prank or a healthy dose of rebellion, but an act of thoughtless recklessness such as this certainly crossed the line from harmless fun to endangerment. His Prefect–now Head Boy instincts had practically already written up a scolding, though it would have to wait. Priority number one was obvious: keeping the animals safe.

“Seems like we’re on catch duty. Any clever ideas for those owls?” Jesper briefly glanced at Atlas for confirmation before taking to action. The seventh year immediately merged into the crowd with a symphony of pardons and ‘scuse me’s, carefully nudging passers-by to keep his eyes on the clutters of critters that were zig-zagging about. Small jolts of blue light would rhythmically begin to erupt as Jesper set off a series of close-ranged Hovering charms. In time, several rats, toads and cats began to slowly hover up, remaining sluggishly suspended right above head level.

Leaving behind a trail of floating pets-to-be, Jesper eventually locked eyes on a crew of particularly swift stragglers who were headed right towards a nearby alley. His fast walk decisively transitioned into a hurried run, coming to a halt right as the first few creatures threatened to turn the corner. Finding a slim window of opportunity, he’d point his wand down at the bricked flooring in front of the scattering creatures whilst uttering the word “Epoximese” – a sticking spell. The bricks rumbled ever so slightly as a section began to stain with a glossy adhesive that would hopefully stop some of the critters in their tracks without harm. Unforeseen side effect: some of Diagon Alley’s human visitors also seemed to fall victim to the sticky goodness, and they were not happy.

“Just a moment, everyone.” Jesper flashed a smile, growing worry now manifesting in his expression as he assessed the situation. Given the sheer amount of animals still rabidly roaming the streets, it seemed highly unlikely that Atlas and he alone could tackle this issue.

Skryeb · Feb 2, 2024

Herbology.

Celeste Greengrass.

Blossom

location

Diagon Alley

outfit

http://xx/

http://xx/

interactions

Charles, Silas, Luther

tags

Victory

leviohsa

cwosont

After going through her end of summer routine of making sure all of her personal plants were still thriving in their new pots and ready to be transported to Hogwarts at the start of the new year, Celeste found herself stepping out of the fireplace of The Leaky Cauldron. She frowned at the elevated amount of people that were gathered around the establishment. While she found it poor timing on the Chudley Cannons’ part for hosting a meet and greet while the whole of Diagon Alley was having a sale, she did have to admit it was perfect timing for them to be doing such an event.

She fairly easily maneuvered through the crowds until she made it out of the building and into Diagon Alley proper, holding the small bag she’d brought with her close to her side to make herself smaller. Making her way to her destination, it wasn't hard to pick out Charles in the crowd outside of Flourish and Blotts. As she grew near, she realized she wasn't the first of those invited to arrive, spotting Silas already speaking with their colleague, Luther stepping from the crowd close to her as well, a sign of great timing. She found herself smiling as she greeted the three of them with a polite, “Good afternoon.”

She had to look up at Charles as she addressed him directly, something that she'd grown used to but was probably a bit of an odd sight to an outside perspective. “Thank you for inviting us all, Charles. It's always nice to tackle shopping when you have companions with you.”

Charles smiled. "Of course! I always enjoy a good outing with friends. I just ask that you all keep me from buying too many unnecessary knacks for my classroom~"

His response caused her to laugh, her smile brightening, “I make no promises!”

As friendly words were passed around, Celeste settled in next to Luther and stole glances through the window of Flourish and Blotts, seeing a couple of things already that she wanted to grab. As Charles gestured towards the storefront, she realized with a little bit of embarrassment that she hadn’t been paying as much attention to the conversation as she should have, and glanced back at the group as she heard a troubled, "That wizard over there. The taller one talking to the boy and his mother. Doesn't he work at Cobb & Webb's?" Catching an unusual frown on Charles’ face, she followed his gaze across the street where indeed it did look as though one of Cobb & Webb’s employees was accosting a poor mother and son. Her eyes followed the three of them, but between the distance and the crowds, she couldn’t make out any words being said.

Silas startled her as he shifted as if to move towards them, his voice stern as he spoke, "I think it would be best if I join their conversation." When Charles agreed, and even Luther seemed ready to move, she spoke up, suggesting they watch instead and intervene if needed. That seemed to settle them enough to stop any of them from crossing the street, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. While the scene before them did unsettle her a bit and she couldn’t stand by and just watch if things escalated, it was too soon to justify making a bigger scene in the middle of the thoroughfare. She didn’t want to think of the paperwork that would have to be filed if it ended up as a misunderstanding, and four distinguished Hogwarts professors were seen accosting innocents.

Thankfully (though not so much so for the mother and son), the streets were filled with groups like theirs that were mingling and speaking with each other, so they didn’t stand out much. She shifted and repositioned herself so that they now stood in a semi circle, their positions making it so they all could easily watch the group across the street, while also holding a conversation. Not that her three companions for the day could relax enough to seem natural in their environment now.

She forced a sigh, not much to start a conversation, but knowing that she would need to be the one to start one if they didn’t want to attract any kind of attention (or at least, more attention than Charles already gathered). “I have a few books I would like to pick up while we’re here,” she mused, “We could attempt to brave The Leaky Cauldron after for drinks, but I think we’ll be hard pressed to find a table if we want to relax there. Florean Fortescue's is an alternative if we would just like a place to sit, and it’s close by. I do think the establishment is lacking in the drink department though,” she tried for a light hearted tone as she kept glancing at the goings on across the street.

death to birds · Feb 4, 2024

hufflepuff

vijay prakash.

miracle

location

rosa lee teabag

outfit

interactions

ophelia

tags

thehighpriestess

comfortable

OrpheusTalks

Sleepless nights weren’t an uncommon occurrence for Vijay when his Inner Eye was choosing to be overactive, he just wished it hadn’t happened the night before he was supposed to be shopping in Diagon Alley for his supplies for the year. He could still remember the dream that had startled him awake during the early hours of the morning: cold, wet scales slithering and intertwining around an unsuspecting eagle, wrapping around its tail feathers then to its chest and up to its neck, crushing and twisting as the feathered creature slowly turned to stone before - BAM! An owl crashed straight into the view of the snake and the eagle, jolting Jay awake from the jumpscare as he was left panting and anxious in his bed, unable to return to sleep before it was time to wake up and head out to Diagon Alley’s sale.

Of course, once he arrived at the alley itself the crowded walkways didn’t make the situation much better. He had never been one to enjoy a crowd, so seeing the lines of people in each store hustling to grab their things to purchase before they were sold out only made him more stressed and exhausted than before. He had bounced between a couple of stores grabbing his things before he found himself in another daze, remembering the dream from the night before has he mindlessly walked through the busy alleyway. A cold sweat started to form on his brow and his grip tightened around his bag as he pushed forward, imagery of the suffocating eagle from his dream clouding his mind causing him to be unaware of his surroundings and the shoulder he was walking straight into.

The collision nearly caused him to drop his things as it jolted him out of his daydream, his eyes quickly focusing again as he turned to the person to apologize.

”I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was go- Ophelia? I wasn’t expecting to run into you here!”

Really he hadn’t expected to run into anyone he knew considering how busy the place seemed to be. Between Grindelwald supporters and creatures turned loose on the streets, the entire place seemed to be a madhouse and on a lack of sleep and no lunch it made it really difficult for him to keep his focus. He felt himself swaying a bit as he glanced around, knowing good and well that neither he nor Ophelia were really the type to enjoy being swept away in a crowd.

”Do you want to grab a bite to eat - or maybe a drink? We could stop by Rosa Lee Teabag, it’s probably a lot less crowded and a good bit more… quiet than the rest of Diagon Alley at the moment. Only if you want, of course,”

he offered with a hopeful smile, hoping to break away from the chaos for a bit. He felt a bit of relief when she seemed to agree, her face lighting up at the suggestion. ”That sounds perfect,” she replied, her smile mirroring his own. ”I could use a bit of quiet and some tea.” He gave a swift nod in return, guiding her off to the side away from the crowd as they made their way over to the tea shop.

As they made their order and took their seats at one of the tables set off in a quiet part of the shop’s outside section, he caught a glimpse of Professors Allegro and Shafiq nearby, his heart racing a bit. Perfect. He hated disappointing others, and those were two of the professors he had purposely chosen to dip out of their classes moving forward into his advanced studies. It wasn’t anything personal, he just found his interests lying elsewhere - especially History of Magic hitting a personal disdain of his.

”So, how was your summer? The world’s crazy at the moment, doesn’t feel like there’s a peaceful place out there,”

he started, reflecting on the many visions that seemed to torment his sleep during the summer alone at the castle.

”Hopefully you got up to something fun, yeah?”

He added with a smile, leaning back in his chair as Ophelia began to answer about her summer, his head nodding along as she spoke.

For a moment the chaos around them seem to fade away as they sunk into their own little introvert corner - at least until a tawny owl came crashing down onto their table in the middle of Ophelia’s answer, their plates and cups scattering around splashing tea across his chest in the process.

”You!”

he said with narrowed eyes, looking at the owl that had crashed into his dream the night before to jerk him awake in the early hours of the morning. There was a package in the owl’s grip as it looked at them expectantly, Vijay’s eyes glancing up at Ophelia hoping she had an idea of what to do.

thehighpriestess · Feb 4, 2024

Ophelia.

In the quiet comfort of her bedroom, Ophelia stood before a thin black rimmed mirror, her reflection gazing back at her with a sense of contentment. She looked just the same as last year; a normal frizzy haired seventeen year old girl. What caught her eye and drew a warm smile was not her own image, but the gold circle earrings she wore – a cherished memento from her mother. They hung delicately from her small ears and made her feel connected to a woman she had never known, yet felt deeply connected to.

It would soon be another term and for more serious decisions in life to be made. Such as what she planned on doing once her life at Hogwarts ended.

Downstairs in the living room of their warm and cozy London flat, her father, Edmund, was settled in his favorite chair, engrossed in the Daily Prophet, happily content and no worries of his future. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a soft glow on the pages he read. A worn radio played a soft melody in the background, too low for the words to be made out. It was a comforting constant in the Reynolds' home, left on almost perpetually to fill the silence with its gentle hum, especially when Edmund found himself alone.

Phoebe, Ophelia's older sister, had already departed for her job at the Ministry of Magic, where she worked in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Her absence left a noticeable void in the morning routine, yet the Reynolds family had grown accustomed to their individual schedules, supporting each other with frequent notes written with love.

"I'm off for a bit. I need to gather a few last-minute things," Ophelia announced, stepping into the living room with a soft smile. Her father looked up from his paper, his eyes, mirroring the hue of Ophelia's crinkled kindly at her. He placed the newspaper aside, offering her his full attention.

"Need any extra pocket money? You can get yourself something from Florean's," he suggested, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards in a gentle offer.

"Just getting some supplies, Dad. I have some left from work if need be, just save it for yourself," she insisted

Her father sighed slightly, his smile persisting yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "It's fine to be greedy on occasion, Fi. I'm getting more hours again" he muttered, mostly to himself.

Her smile stayed glued to her face, but she felt a small pang of guilt for not accepting. Feeling bad for things despite her best intentions was practical her second nature.

With a small wave to her father, Ophelia reached for the small dish of Floo Powder near their fireplace. The sunlight caught the glittering substance, illuminating its magical glow in her hand. She stepped into the fireplace, a sense of anticipation lighting her features as she spoke clearly, "The Leaky Cauldron," and with them, she vanished in a swirl of green flames.

Emerging from the fireplace soon after, Ophelia found herself in the bustling interior of wizarding pub. She quickly dusted herself off, a small cloud of soot puffing into the air with her movements. The pub was livelier than than ever, and she felt the immediate urge to leave into the alley as quickly as could be. Carefully, she navigated through the crowd, doing her best to avoid bumping into the witches and wizards who filled the space.

As she made her way to the exit, greeted by a more subdued sounds of crowds, Ophelia reached into her pants pocket and began to read her list. It was a compilation of items she needed to gather—a few potion ingredients, a new quill, and some parchment. Her focus on the list, however, left her momentarily unaware of her surroundings.

Just as she continued walking not more than a few minutes, someone bumped into her shoulder. The sudden contact caused her to stumble slightly, her hand instinctively tightening around the list.

"I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was go- Ophelia?" The voice, filled with surprise and immediate recognition, halted her in her tracks.

Lifting her gaze, Ophelia's eyes met those of Vijay Prakash, her friend and fellow Hufflepuff. His expression shifted from one of brief apology to a bright, welcoming smile upon realizing whom he had inadvertently collided with. It was a pleasant surprise for the both of them, and Ophelia's guilt quickly turned to warm affection.

The squawking of owls and the yells of protestors filled the alley, and Ophelia realized there wasn't as much of a difference between the pub and outside as she might have hoped. From the look on Vijay's face (and the rather tiredness in his eyes) he didn't seem to be that fond of it either so she accepted his offer for tea immediately.

They made their way to the tea shop, a quaint establishment known for its chic and delightful assortment of drinks. They made their selections with care, chamomile for herself, per usual. As they awaited their order, Ophelia's gaze wandered, landing on Professors Allegro and Shafiq, who were engaged in what appeared to be a deep conversation nearby. She felt her cheeks become warm. While she had stuck through with History of Magic , simply because it was a comfortable subject and rarely did any volunteering or demonstration, she had dropped Alchemy as quickly as possible. She had cried buckets just to barely pass her O.W.L.

Vijay, perhaps sensing the potential for awkwardness in the silent observation of their professors, turned the conversation towards other things quickly. "So, how was your summer? The world's crazy at the moment, doesn't feel like there's a peaceful place out there," he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of concern mingled with genuine interest. "Hopefully you got up to something fun, yeah?" His smile, easy and encouraging, always made her grateful for his continued friendship.

"I worked a little for a bakery, just for extra money," Ophelia began, her smile lingering as she recalled how fun it had been, even without the magic. The conversation flowed naturally from there, with him nodding along as she spoke of the early hours and frequent treats she brought home.

Their peaceful moment, however, was abruptly shattered. A tawny owl, seemingly out of nowhere, came crashing down onto their table amidst their conversation. The impact sent their plates and cups flying, scattering the remnants of their order and splashing tea across Vijay's chest. The sudden chaos made her emit a sharp yelp of surprise, before she immediately grabbed a napkin to hand towards him. He threw an accusation at the owl that she barely registered, more intent on making sure he was alright.

"Are you alright?" Ophelia's voice was laced with worry as her eyes scanned the areas where the hot tea had made contact with his skin. Her focus was entirely on ensuring his well-being.

During her examination of her friend, the owl's disgruntled screech caught her attention, redirecting her towards the creature. It seemed almost offended by her lack of immediate concern for it. "I'm sorry, are you alright as well?" she asked, her tone softening as she turned her attention to the bird. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the package it held, an addition to the scene that she hadn't initially registered in the surprise of the moment.

The owl, perhaps sensing her genuine concern, ruffled its feathers and let out a more gentle hoot, its demeanor shifting from one of indignation to a more accepting, if still somewhat ruffled, state. Despite landing directly on their table, it seemed to be looking more intently at the professors than the two it had landed near.

She couldn't quite spot a clearly written name on the package, and the animal seemed to have no desire to leave the table. So who exactly was the package for?

mood: surprised

interactions: 
			 
		 death to birds

Rosa Lee Teabag

OrpheusTalks · Feb 4, 2024

.
.

XI.
the Tawny Owl

Sophia
mood
intrigued

location
Rosa Lee Teabag

interactions
Saira, Ophelia, Vijay

tags
death to birds thehighpriestess comfortable
On a crisp afternoon that hinted at the approach of autumn, Professor Allegro found herself nestled within the cozy confines of Rosa Lee Teabag, a charming cafe tucked away in the bustling heart of Diagon Alley. The world outside buzzed with the daily hustle of witches and wizard all eager for a deal, but within these walls, all was rather mellow and peaceful, allowing her some quiet and time alone with her old student turned co-worker. Their conversation had gone through politics, latest events, and of course some of the curriculum, and never once had Sophia felt remotely bored.

Ms. Shafiq had always been one of her most gifted and spirited students. Sophia was always pleased when anyone seemed to enjoy learning as much as herself, so she was equally overjoyed when she learned she had come to join Hogwarts once more, but as a Professor.

"I was delighted when you took up my offer for tea," she chirped affectionately, taking another sip from her cup. She smiled when she heard a few giggles at the table nearby themselves.

She had noticed Ms. Reynolds and Mr. Prakash earlier, recognizing them with a detached amusement. The expression on their faces upon seeing her and Professor Shafiq had been all too familiar—similar to the look often seen on students who had opted out of her class, as if they expected her to pounce on them with a quiz or a lecture at any moment. It was an amusing thought, one that brought a smile to her lips.

Sophia had been cradling a delicate porcelain cup, its contents steaming lightly in her gloved hands, and eager to continue her peaceful conversation. That serenity, however, was briefly interrupted when a rather aggressive tawny owl, inadvertently encroached upon their peace. Despite the sudden intrusion, Sophia sipped her tea with undiminished grace, choosing not let the disruption make her cause too much of a scene despite being caught off guard.

She observed as Ophelia, fretting, hovered over Vikash with a concern that was almost maternal. Not at all surprising, as she'd come to know the girl enough to see what a kind little creature she was.

"I suppose we can't give them their peace now can we?" Sophia teased, her voice tinged with amusement as she watched the scene unfold. Her smile widened slightly as she observed Ophelia's careful attention to the disgruntled bird, her actions painting a picture of concern and affection that was both endearing and comical.

As Sophia's conversation with Saira momentarily paused, her gaze was inadvertently captured by the tawny owl, which seemed to be staring directly back at her. With an elegantly raised eyebrow, Sophia silently questioned the creature's intentions.

The owl in its attempt to engage with the package once more, hopped back, flapping its wings with a determination that was quickly stopped by a noticeable struggle. As it tried to lift off, a low hoot escaped its beak, a sound of frustration and perhaps a hint of distress. It was clear to those watching that the bird was hindered, possibly by an unseen wound.

"Mr. Prakash. Miss Reynolds, I do believe this is an excellent learning opportunity. " Sophia announced, making eye contact with both the two students and her co-worker. " This little thing appears to be wounded. What do you believe the proper solution would be to assist our feathery friend?"

Her eyes, alight with a mischievous twinkle, conveyed her genuine curiosity and amusement at the situation. Sophia extended her hand gently towards the owl, a gesture of peace and an indication that she meant no harm. Then, turning to smile at Saira, she subtly acknowledged that their tea might come to a premature end due to this unexpected interruption. However, Sophia's interest was piqued, not just in the well-being of the owl but also in how they would respond,

Would they employ a spell to heal the bird, revealing their knowledge and proficiency in care of magical creatures? Or would their curiosity lead them to investigate the package further, uncovering the intent behind the owl's persistent attempts? Sophia was intrigued by the possibilities, after all once a teacher, always a teacher. Even without term starting.

designed by bad ending & coded by xayah.ღ

Shadow Alpha · Feb 4, 2024

scroll me!

mood

Ready to finish the hellish chore that is shopping

tags

leviohsa

“I have a few books I would like to pick up while we’re here,” Celeste muses, “We could attempt to brave The Leaky Cauldron after for drinks, but I think we’ll be hard pressed to find a table if we want to relax there. Florean Fortescue's is an alternative if we would just like a place to sit, and it’s close by. I do think the establishment is lacking in the drink department though.”

Charles offers her an apologetic smile.

"I would never turn down the opportunity for ice cream."

He knows she is attempting to defuse the situation, but he still can not help but look over at the boy and his mother.

"How about we take our time with shopping and see how The Leaky Cauldron looks when we're done? I do believe they're having a signing event at the moment. Perhaps it will be over by the time we're done and we'll be lucky enough to find a seat for a meal and drinks."

The Charms professor hums in thought.

"And ice cream after,"

he adds with a playful wink.

"A terrible time for a signing event," Celeste mutters, slightly bitter, but then nods in agreement with his proposal, "But I suppose the crowds may have died down by the time our shopping is done."

The quarter-giant stifles a laugh at the broody, disapproving wolf noises Silas makes. He nods his head and gestures towards the door, but stops suddenly. The boy and his mother. Charles narrows his eyes as they follow the two wizards down an alleyway. They are Knockturn Alley wizards, after all.

"Silas."

He points his chin.

"My apologies, Celeste. I simply... do not feel good about this. I would love for you to accompany us to make sure they are okay, but if you prefer not to I understand completely."

Charles motions for Silas to lead the way and allows Celeste to step in front of him as she decides to join them. Together, the three professors cross the street and follow the wizards down the alley. The atmosphere shifts immediately as they enter Knockturn Alley. The air feels stale, the liveliness of Diagon Alley muted despite its close proximity. Charles rarely does any shopping here and for good reason. It is well known that the shops in this area appeal to a certain crowd.

As they turn around a corner, he is able to see the back of the tall wizard disappear into Cobb & Webb's.

"Just as I thought,"

Charles murmurs.

"Shall we all go in?"

He approaches the window to the store, but the curtains are drawn.

"I don't imagine they'll be happy to see us."

comfortable · Feb 5, 2024

/* ------ left side ------ */

/* ------ left side info ------ */

mood cautiously curious

location diagon alley

outfit here

music none

tag

Soot

Historia Calamatium

rose thomas

/* ------ right side ------ */

Her fingers meandered over the books stacked haphazardly on the bookshelf. Glancing down at the list clutched in her hand, she scanned the titles before her and swiftly grabbed the one she needed. Already in her free hand were a plethora of books, some needed for classes, and some for independent study of various topics surrounding her curse.

With a heavy thud, she dropped her books on the counter and silently paid for school supplies. Her thoughts drifted to the excitement of her first visit to Diagon Alley with her father, anticipation bubbling as she prepared to attend the same school her parents once did.

But those memories now weighed heavily on her heart; she no longer spoke to her father, and their shared moments were tinged with sadness and betrayal. Offering a small smile to the cashier, she left her purchases at Flourish and Blotts, promising to retrieve them later as they were too unmanageable to carry while she finished her shopping. Stepping out into the bustling Diagon Alley, she instinctively smoothed down unseen wrinkles on her dress.

Navigating through the crowd, her steps were light and evasive, avoiding the throngs of people congregating around a man on a soapbox. Rose had no interest in listening to the rhetoric of Grindelwald's supporters; despite the looming threat of war, she preferred not to dwell on it, her mind preoccupied with a myriad of concerns, including the invisible countdown above her head. Attempting to maneuver past, she found herself hemmed in by the crowd, her shorter stature proving a disadvantage as people pressed in around her.

Turning away from the soapbox orator in search of an escape route, she instead nearly slammed into a familiar face: Keaton, a fellow Chaser. Frowning at the Gryffindor, she quipped, "Keaton, I never took you for a Grindelwald sympathizer." Though her tone suggested seriousness, her peculiar brand of humor often blurred the lines. It was evident they were both ensnared within the crowd. Annoyance flashed briefly across her face as the crowd surged once more, quickly concealed.

"We need to find a way out before this becomes a stampede," she declared, scanning the surroundings for a path to freedom. Without hesitation, Rose seized his wrist and pulled him towards a small opening in the crowd. Just as they were about to break free, a woman's cry pierced the air. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, releasing his wrist abruptly. Reluctant to involve herself, Rose remained silent, her gaze fixed on Keaton, waiting to see his reaction.

/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

thehighpriestess · Feb 5, 2024

Pen.

The air in the Leaky Cauldron was unpleasant with the mingled scents of various brews and the damp wood that had absorbed countless spells and conversations over the years. For Pen however, it was more so the sea of bodies that packed the room tighter than a tin of sardines that really annoyed her.

She hated big crowds.

Her scowl, a near-permanent fixture since she had stepped into the tavern, only deepened with each accidental nudge and not-so-accidental elbow jabbed into her side. The promise of meeting the Chudley Cannons while not her favorite team, had initially excited her. The meet and greet was supposed to be a simple affair: get in, grab an autograph, maybe exchange a word or two with the players she envied, and get out. But with each passing minute, the heat of the room rising and the press of the crowd becoming more suffocating, Pen felt her resolve waning.

"Captain! Oh for fucks sake," she swore as someone pushed into her once more. She heard an inhale of breath by a witch nearby, shocked by her language. She rolled her eyes, intent on finding where her friend was somewhere in front of her in line.

Markus Ollivander; the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper was much taller than her, and actually somewhat taller than most the patrons inside so he wasn't all that difficult to see. She bounced on the soles of her feet, motioning towards him once he was spotted. "Oi! Stand by me at least, I'm close to losing it."

Markus turned at the sound of Pen's voice. His expression, a mix of amusement and concern, broke through the sea of faces as he caught sight of her bouncing attempts to get his attention.

"Pen, there you are," Markus said, leaning down to speak more clearly, "I was beginning to think you'd given up and escaped through the back."

He positioned himself beside her, creating a small buffer between herself and the next enthusiastic fan. His tall frame now acted as a protective barrier, giving her the breathing room she needed.

Pen's scowl softened slightly at the sight of him, grateful even if she didn't want to admit it. "I was close to it," she mumbled, her voice carrying a hint of the frustration that had been building up. "This is madness. I didn't think it would be this packed."

Markus chuckled, taking a moment to glance around at the packed pub. "Yeah, it's a bit more intense than I expected, too. But we're here now. Might as well make the most of it, right? Besides, it's not every day you get to meet the best team in the world. Even if they aren't your favorite ."

She raised an eyebrow, trying to narrow down the twelve different insults she could easily have hurled towards the "best" so called team, but she resisted. They were definitely not the Holyhead Harpies by any means. She couldn't actually recall the last time they'd even won a game, but he was still pretty dedicated to them. Despite his pleasant attitude and their friendliness, he was still her Captain. She had no desire to earn extra drills before the term started by teasing him too much.

"Fair," was the word she gruffly decided on. "Just promise me we'll grab some butterbeer after. I'm going to need it."

"You have my word," Markus replied, his smile wide and cheerful. "Butterbeer on me. Now, let's get see if we can't get the two of us an autograph."

Having the large figure by her side, she felt less likely to be pushed around. She kept her eyes peeled, unsure of who else she might spot in line and exactly how long this damn event was going to take.

mood: annoyed

interactions: 
			 
		 OrpheusTalks

the leaky cauldron

ghostlynarcissus · Feb 6, 2024

A n t o n i o

A

ntonio Castillo, with his usual leisurely pace, strolled along the bustling roads of Diagon Alley, a picture of contentment. Today he was on his way to meet Beatrice , the lovely Divination Professor at Hogwarts. Their rendezvous was set to be at Florean's Ice cream parlor, a spot favored by many for its delightful array of treats. Yet, in true Antonio fashion, he found himself indulging in a pumpkin pasty well before their meeting, crumbs decorating his mustache.

Every bite he took was accompanied by a small, deliberate act of sharing; he would pinch off a piece of the pasty and discreetly feed it to a small, unseen creature nestled within the cozy inner lining of his mustard colored pea coat. The creature, hidden from the prying eyes of the bustling crowd, responded with eager chittering, audible only to Antonio. This secretive exchange went unnoticed amidst the chaos of Diagon Alley, a private moment of camaraderie between the man and his small companion.

The pasty eventually gave way to the last crumb, and Antonio, now standing before a row of shops, appeared momentarily adrift. His many talents notwithstanding, navigation was not among them. Despite his years of wandering Diagon Alley's meandering paths, it was not uncommon for him to become ensnared in the web of his distractions, losing his way.

Muttering to himself in a blend of frustration and amusement, "Where have I managed to lead us, hmm? Ay dios mio," he chided, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the self-reproach. His fingers ran through his dark hair, an absent gesture of contemplation. The creature, still safely tucked away , chirped in agreement, its voice a soft echo of Antonio's thoughts.

He let out a sigh, his gaze sweeping across the familiar yet confusing labyrinth of Diagon Alley. He wondered, not for the first time, if a wrong turn had led him astray. His musings were abruptly interrupted as a pair of young boys dashed past him, their faces alight with the unmistakable glow of mischief successfully executed. Antonio's instincts, honed by years of dealing with unpredictable magical creatures (as well as equally mischievous young students), sensed the unfolding drama even before it fully revealed itself.

The subsequent commotion was a symphony of animal sounds, punctuated by voices he recognized all too well. Turning towards the source, Antonio's eyes widened. Two of his own students, Jesper Pearce from Hufflepuff and Atlas Moore from Ravenclaw, were in the midst of a frantic attempt to corral a motley assortment of magical creatures. The animals, ranging from owl, rats, and those slightly larger were less than enthusiastic and eager for freedom.

Without a moment's hesitation, Antonio sprang into action, his earlier disorientation forgotten. Darting towards the scene with a swiftness that only came out in the need to protect creatures and students, he moved to assist them. His approach was that of a seasoned magizoologist; calm, deliberate, and with an understanding that they were far more fearful than anything else.

"Careful, boys." His hands moved with practiced ease, his one hand carrying his wand and pausing the flight of an owl who attempted to glide by Atlas, as gently as he could.

"We don't want to harm any of them. " He insisted, though he had no doubt the boys knew this. After all, they were both still in his classes and seemed to care just as much for the creatures they tended to.
Hopefully Beatrice wouldn't be too cross with him, their ice cream plans would surely have to wait until all was settled.

MOOD

concerned

OUTFIT

here

LOCATION

Diagon Alley-

tags

ghostlynarcissus

Shadow Alpha

Grace finishes shuffling around the papers on her desk and points to the piece of parchment and quill floating to her right. "Let's begin, shall we? I'll ask you questions and my enchanted quill here will write your answers. Simple enough, yes?" She smiles brightly. "As I mentioned, I want to discuss the current political climate in the wizarding world. So, naturally we will be discussing Gellert Grindelwald and his efforts alongside the Muggle war," Grace explains. "Let's start with the basics. To your understanding, what is Grindelwald's message and purpose?"

Noémie purses her lips and shoots a fleeting glance over at the others.

"Grindelwald seeks to liberate the wizarding world from Muggle oppression,"

she begins with a sly smirk.

"His words, of course. He believes wizards are superior, and so we shouldn't have to hide in secrecy. Allowing the Muggles to rule the world has led to ruin."

Medea takes a moment to gather her thoughts, her posture shifting to a more deliberate stance as she crosses her legs. Her response, when it comes, cuts through the ideological veneer to address the underlying motivations of Grindelwald's campaign. "He seeks power," she states, her voice carrying a note of conviction. Her gaze drifts to her nail beds as she peers over her glasses, as if the answer is the most obvious of all. "If it wasn't the Muggles being a 'threat' to wizarding kind, it would be something else. That's how those sort of people are, end justifies the means."

The Slytherin hums in agreement. That is the truth of it, in the end. Noémie surely has an opinion on the wizarding world's decision to remain in secrecy, but ultimately Grindelwald's movement is more than that. It always has been. He is not unlike the men the Muggles struggle to fight against now, in hindsight.

Upon hearing the first question, Quinn's usually friendly demeanor shifts into one chilled with a harden glint. His body remains in the relaxed state as he crosses his arms and lays them on the back of the chair. "To my understanding, Grindewald is an arrogant man that prefers a future where the superior specimen in his eyes, magical-kind, are free to do as they please and take what they deem as their birthright. All under the guise of securing a better future for them. Great in theory, not as nice in practice."

"I mean, who would've thought that I'd leave one world with its own racial problems just to deal with another race war that's almost just as ignorant?" Quinn scoffs while absentmindedly scratching his chin, "For someone who has a strong distaste for muggles, he's such a fan of eugenics which was a term coined by a Muggle."

Noémie responds,

"He isn't calling for eugenics. Yet, anyway."

She taps her nails in thought.

"I suppose it is inevitable. It would be the only way to secure wizards remained in power. The Muggles may not wield magic, but they do have other weapons at their disposal. As we are all well aware."

Ursula's composure, usually so well maintained, wavers momentarily at the Muggleborn's blunt critique of Grindelwald's ideology. Her annoyance is barely concealed, with just a tic in her jaw to show her irritation. Her green eyes, previously focused on Grace flicker towards him, their glint sharpening like a predator approaching much smaller prey.

"Grindelwald wants to keep wizarding kind safe," she purrs, a diplomatic smile gluing itself to her face, "Perhaps he's a bit zealous but, he's intent about reclaiming our heritage and ensuring the future of magic for generations to come."

Noémie smirks to herself. She expected no less from her dear friend, but she does wonder in amusement if The Daily Prophet is prepared to publish everything they say.

ghostlynarcissus · Feb 11, 2024

M e d e a

M

edea's face continued to hold a rather neutral, bland expression at the other participants answers. Every feeling, even from Grace who seemed to be absorbing their words with such an excited look of pleasure on her face, was needling her brain.

Annoyance. Frustration. Pride. She was beginning to regret not leaving the minute she discovered it would be a group event.

She tilted her head, leaning her elbow on the armrest of her rather uncomfortable chair, letting her palm hold her cheek as she listened to Noémie correct Quinn, and Ursula swoop in to remind everyone of her thoughts. As pleasant as her smile attempted to be, there was malice behind that pretty face. She wasn't particularly fond of either individual, but she was intrigued to see them speak their minds so eloquently, though not quite as much as their passionate interviewer.

Grace grinned in approval. "Yes, thank you! This is the type of enthusiasm I was looking for. Old folk always give the most dreadfully boring answers." Her gaze flickered over to her quill to ensure it was finished writing everyone's answers. "Now, still starting with the basics here... How much of this Muggle war do you feel you understand? And how have you come by this information?"

Noémie sat back and considered the question. The Muggle war was not her area of expertise, although did read The Daily Prophet's articles on it. "I understand the reason why Great Britain declared war on Germany. The invasion of Poland. Hitler's conquest for land and power, and spread of Nazi ideals." She frowns in thought and recalls her mother's heartbreak over the invasion of France. "I hear the Allies have finally begun turning the tides."

She blinked in response, digesting the information quietly to herself. Couldn't everyone see how ironic the situation was? The Muggles were already fighting amongst themselves, with simply no idea some power hungry wizard was trying to stir up another war for the sake of stroking his own fear mongering ego.

Despite her own relative ignorance of the finer details of the Muggle conflict, the broad strokes—the quest for power, the ideological battles, the willingness to sacrifice lives for the sake of being deemed "the true power"—were all too familiar. Medea's glance towards Noémie held a brief glimmer of respect in her eyes before she pushed her glasses back up. "It's not so far off from our own world's troubles it seems," Medea answered, her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness as she considered the similarities between the leaders of both wars. "I don't know enough to give more information than that, but I would say it just makes it seem like we have more in common than we think with one another. We both apparently don't mind killing each other off for the sake of being 'right'."

Ursula's reaction to Medea's thoughtful answer is one of barely veiled disinterest. Her lips purse slightly. "I don't see the point really," she answers, her voice cool and dismissive. "I don't put much stock into how the kneazle population is doing, why would I worry about muggles fighting amongst themselves."

Medea lowered her glasses, staring quite purposely at the haughty Slytherin before flicking her lenses right back up onto the bridge of her button nose. There was a reason she liked to avoid her at school and at any pureblood function.

Quinn listened dutifully to his counterparts and was fairly impressed with how much they were aware of. While they spoke, he would offer noises of agreement and acknowledgement or simply a shake of the head when words didn't portray a fully accurate image. He knew that the muggle-born students of the affected countries would often group up to speak on what was occurring outside of the protective magical bubble the wizards had placed themselves in. "I'm honestly thrilled to see my fellow pureblooded peers have some sort of understanding on what's going on out in the non-magical world. I personally feel that I have a solid understanding of the issues as I've spoken with classmates that also lived a majority of their life deeply intertwined with muggle society and politics. I still communicate with some very close friends that have been deeply concerned on what else will follow this path of man-made destruction that has become a necessity to obtain peace. We, Lydia and I, often have long chats with friends during holidays or remain in the loop through the use of letters. It may not directly involve my home state but as a muggle-born, I feel that it's a necessity for me to stay up-to-date on the political climate."

Ursula's reaction to Medea's thoughtful answer is one of barely veiled disinterest. Her lips purse slightly. "I don't see the point really," she answers, her voice cool and dismissive. "I don't put much stock into how the kneazle population is doing, why would I worry about muggles fighting amongst themselves."

Medea blinked. The comparison was frustrating. It almost felt like a bait placed out just to antagonize Quinn, except Ursula really did likely believe that way. Muggles were less than people to her.

"I agree, Kingston. Ignorance would only cause harm to us. Everyone should be more well informed." Medea glanced at Ursula lingering on the Slytherin's form before turning towards Quinn. Her eyes were still hidden, but her voice sounded tired.

"I doubt that will happen, though. Some people stay settled in their ways of thinking and there's not much to be done about it."

MOOD

tired

OUTFIT

here

LOCATION

Diagon Alley-Daily Prophet

tags

cwosont

ven

"Shall we all go in?" Silas thought for a moment, assessing the group's surroundings before speaking up,

"I think it would be best if I go in alone, with you both out here to keep watch. You're right in that they won't be all too thrilled to see us." It was a bit odd to hear himself volunteer to be involved, since he typically preferred to stay back and observe. However, the heavy feeling in his chest made him all-too aware that he was the best option to save the mother and her child.

Charles nodded. "Give us a signal if you need us. Your patronus, perhaps." He hesitated before adding, "A loud explosion would also do the trick." Silas arched a brow at his humor, before letting out a mix of a scoff and a chuckle,

"Hopefully it does not come to that.."

Turning away from his colleagues, Silas walked purposefully towards the old wooden door, turning the brass knob open and immediately alerting those inside that he had entered. Blue eyes casually scanned the narrow aisles for any sign of the mother and son, only to find two strangers; Neither of which were the ones he was looking for.

An older witch with teeth stained yellow grins in his direction and says, "Hello, dearie. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." She laughs shrilly, whilst Silas did his best to suppress a groan. "Looking for something specific, love? We have a number of... unique items."

The Astronomer would double as a liar if he said he never shopped in Knockturn Alley. In his younger, more desperate days to find cures for Lycanthropy, he frequented the dark corners and dimly lit shops in hopes that some oddity would be the key to freeing his late wife. However, it had been years since he last subjected himself to the eerie place. And, because of it, he had to dust off his abilities of interacting with the typically dark wizards that frequented here.

Keeping his posture straight, gloved hands dusted off his ornate robes before clearing his throat, "I suffer from Lycanthropy, you see.." His gaze stayed on the elderly woman, looking for a reaction before continuing, "So, I was looking to see if there were any new remedies out there. I've tried it all, potions and enchanted greenery, even talismans.." His eyes drifted away from the unsightly shop-keep, and instead feigned curiosity at the shelves surrounding him, gloved hands remaining behind his back.

There are many things he has learned in his life thus far, one of them being to never touch a dark talisman without the assistance of some sort of magical protection.

"Alas, I find nothing does more than suppress one or two of my symptoms." He patiently perused the aisles, searching for the mother and son whilst doing so. It became abundantly clear, though, that they were not in this section. He'd have to dig further.

So, he slowly walked back to the register where the woman stood, hands still behind his back as he loomed over her. "Are there any... extra remedies in the shop?"

It would be clear to anyone who had ever made it a habit to shop in Knockturn Alley that he was asking to see her more... damning collection of dark items. He knew, though, that some shops required a specific phrase, or a password to even be considered entry.

Silas cursed himself for his lack of knowing. It was a feeling he hadn't had the displeasure of having for quite a long time.

The older witch eyed him curiously, though her expression quickly shifted to one of distrust, "I only have what is up front, and nothing more. I'm afraid my stock is rather limited as of late."

Her words confirmed his potential failure. Silas' brow furrowed, his features lowering into a slight frown, before he heard someone approach the counter, now standing beside the Professor.

It was none other than Sebastian Carrow. Relief washed over Silas, who let out a chuckle, "Carrow! What a pleasant surprise." A smile lifted his previously somber features, "Doing a bit of shopping?"

Silas hoped the friendly interaction would be an indicator to the elderly woman that he was to be trusted. And, maybe Sebastian could help him find the mother and son.

Soot · Feb 14, 2024

lycus malfoy

mood

.

outfit

.

location

diagon alley

tags

comfortable

Historia Calamatium

Antares wasn't committed to getting a pet, and his parents weren't too keen on Grindelwald either. Being indecisive ran in the family, it seemed. But then again, most pureblood were like that — they only invested in something once they knew for sure they would having something to gain. Well, at least it was good to know where the Blacks stood. He would have to speak to Noemie later, to grasp the Lestrange's leanings, but that was less urgent. Lycus' parents actually liked Grindelwald, but all their support, if there was any, was very much secretive at this stage, so that they could pull out the moment the tides turned.

"You hear that?!"

"Do I hear it? Of course I bloody hear it, I'm not deaf," Lycus snapped back, perhaps a tad unkindly. His attention was drawn to the commotion immediately, Grindelwald's speech already a distant memory in the back of his mind. Even the spokesperson had swiftly stepped down from the soapbox and blended into the throng of people. Which said a lot about the Grindelwald movement, to be honest. He tried to crane his neck as much as he could to scope out what had happened, but unfortunately, the spooked crowd was making it difficult to really see much. "I can't see shite . . ." he mumbled.

Fortunately, an explosion allowed Lycus to pinpoint exactly where the incident was occurring. With all the smoke and panicking people rushing past him, it was still hard to make out exactly what had happened. Lycus sneered and cringed at how witches and wizards were terrified like headless chickens at the moment. They had magic! Why were they behaving like mudbloods? This was so ridiculous. With determination, he managed to go against the flow, toward a fallen woman. He didn't care much whether Antares follow or not. Once he was closer, he heard her pleading.

"My purse! That man stole my purse! Please! Oh, my wand! Oh my goodness . . . " Next to her on the ground was a broken wand, which had split in the middle like it had spontaneously blown up. Considering the explosion just now, perhaps this was the reason. What a loyal creature, Lycus thought with pity. Lycus had two wands and had never particularly connected to either of them.

In no mood to deal with a hysterical woman, Lycus moved past her and gave chase. Gray smoke in the air gradually thinned to the point where he could catch sight of the running perpetrator. The thief was bumping into everyone and everything on his way and leaving behind a messy trail.

Fishing out his Malfoy wand, Lycus shouted, "Stupefy!"

Unfortunately, his aim had never been good with this wand, and he missed, hitting a falling newspaper stand instead. Cursing, he decided to try again with and Accio spell. His attempt was foiled once more when the thief turned into a smaller road at a well-timed moment.

"Fuck! Are you serious?" Lycus exclaimed. Fueled with adrenaline, he continued rushing after the man.

Lycus suddenly crashed into someone (or perhaps they crashed into him, since Lycus was perfect and could do no wrong, obviously), causing him to fall hard on the ground. He was less angry about the collision itself and more furious about how inelegant the whole debacle had played out. His robes were now dirty, and there were deep scrapes on the palms of his hands.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" he snarled as he made to stand up. As he dusted his clothes, he looked at the person who had crashed into him and recognized the man as a fellow Hogwarts student. A Gryffindor Chaser, to be exact. The fact that Lycus could not recall his name must mean that he was rather insignificant, or probably a mud blood. Ugh.

"Now I lost the thief." Lycus threw his hands up into the air, frustrated. "Thanks a lot."

The pain in his palms made itself known, and Lycus glared at the oozing scrapes. The thing is: He was fully capable of casting an Episky spell. Just not with the Malfoy wand, because it had never liked to listen to him. So he'd been pretending for years that he was terrible with healing spells.

If only he had the hawthorn wand with him — but that one was currently locked away in his trunk at home. He decided that he'd ask Antares to cast the spell for him later.

coded by reveriee.

Antares wasn't committed to getting a pet, and his parents weren't too keen on Grindelwald either. Being indecisive ran in the family, it seemed. But then again, most pureblood were like that — they only invested in something once they knew for sure they would having something to gain. Well, at least it was good to know where the Blacks stood. He would have to speak to Noemie later, to grasp the Lestrange's leanings, but that was less urgent. Lycus' parents actually liked Grindelwald, but all their support, if there was any, was very much secretive at this stage, so that they could pull out the moment the tides turned.

"You hear that?!"

"Do I hear it? Of course I bloody hear it, I'm not deaf," Lycus snapped back, perhaps a tad unkindly. His attention was drawn to the commotion immediately, Grindelwald's speech already a distant memory in the back of his mind. Even the spokesperson had swiftly stepped down from the soapbox and blended into the throng of people. Which said a lot about the Grindelwald movement, to be honest. He tried to crane his neck as much as he could to scope out what had happened, but unfortunately, the spooked crowd was making it difficult to really see much. "I can't see shite . . ." he mumbled.

Fortunately, an explosion allowed Lycus to pinpoint exactly where the incident was occurring. With all the smoke and panicking people rushing past him, it was still hard to make out exactly what had happened. Lycus sneered and cringed at how witches and wizards were terrified like headless chickens at the moment. They had magic! Why were they behaving like mudbloods? This was so ridiculous. With determination, he managed to go against the flow, toward a fallen woman. He didn't care much whether Antares follow or not. Once he was closer, he heard her pleading.

"My purse! That man stole my purse! Please! Oh, my wand! Oh my goodness . . . " Next to her on the ground was a broken wand, which had split in the middle like it had spontaneously blown up. Considering the explosion just now, perhaps this was the reason. What a loyal creature, Lycus thought with pity. Lycus had two wands and had never particularly connected to either of them.

In no mood to deal with a hysterical woman, Lycus moved past her and gave chase. Gray smoke in the air gradually thinned to the point where he could catch sight of the running perpetrator. The thief was bumping into everyone and everything on his way and leaving behind a messy trail.

Fishing out his Malfoy wand, Lycus shouted, "Stupefy!"

Unfortunately, his aim had never been good with this wand, and he missed, hitting a falling newspaper stand instead. Cursing, he decided to try again with and Accio spell. His attempt was foiled once more when the thief turned into a smaller road at a well-timed moment.

"Fuck! Are you serious?" Lycus exclaimed. Fueled with adrenaline, he continued rushing after the man.

Lycus suddenly crashed into someone (or perhaps they crashed into him, since Lycus was perfect and could do no wrong, obviously), causing him to fall hard on the ground. He was less angry about the collision itself and more furious about how inelegant the whole debacle had played out. His robes were now dirty, and there were deep scrapes on the palms of his hands.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" he snarled as he made to stand up. As he dusted his clothes, he looked at the person who had crashed into him and recognized the man as a fellow Hogwarts student. A Gryffindor Chaser, to be exact. The fact that Lycus could not recall his name must mean that he was rather insignificant, or probably a mud blood. Ugh.

"Now I lost the thief." Lycus threw his hands up into the air, frustrated. "Thanks a lot."

The pain in his palms made itself known, and Lycus glared at the oozing scrapes. The thing is: He was fully capable of casting an Episky spell. Just not with the Malfoy wand, because it had never liked to listen to him. So he'd been pretending for years that he was terrible with healing spells.

If only he had the hawthorn wand with him — but that one was currently locked away in his trunk at home. He decided that he'd ask Antares to cast the spell for him later.

Skryeb · Feb 15, 2024

Herbology Professor.

Celeste Greengrass.

Blossom

location

Knockturn Alley

outfit

http://xx/