Invitation
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 09-11-03 08:58
Ethan spotted a chair next to a wall and gestured to it. "Mind if I sit down?"
"Not at all," Darksong said. She studied him quietly for a moment as Ethan grabbed the chair and pulled it out in front of her desk. He sat down in it and pretended to review the statistical analysis she had just presented to him. After a few moments of companionable silence, Ethan looked up to see her still looking at him.
"Is that the right one?" she asked.
"Yes, it's perfect. Do you mind if I take a copy of this for my records?"
"You can have that sheet if you'd like," Darksong replied.
"Thank you," Ethan said, smiling. He folded the parchment in half and started to tuck it into his robe pocket. His dark eyes roamed across the desk and surveyed the general area of Darksong's workspace before resting on her face. He leaned forward slightly, abandoning the already forgotten parchment in his pocket and suggested casually, "You know, the organization is always looking for new members and you seem to be just the type of person we're looking for. Would you be interested in meeting my boss?"
She shook her head no and said, "Sounds interesting, however...", but Ethan removed a small business card from his pocket and held it across the desk, causing her to lose her train of thought. The green, ornate rose decorating the top of the small card, which also represented the organization's logo, had briefly changed into a serpent.
Darksong took it from Ethan's hand and scrutinized it. Had her eyes deceived her?
"Like I said," Ethan went on, "we're always interested in new blood. I'd be happy to take you to Him."
A Compromise
Author: Darksong Shadowhart
Date: 09-11-03 16:32
Darksong felt a bit of a tremor run down her spine when Evan mentioned his boss the second time. Something ominous seemed to strike a deep chord that resonated within her. She quickly shook it off, blaming it on lack of sleep, and said in something like her usual, businesslike tones (she hoped), "Why would your boss be interested in me?" She was trying now to buy herself more time. He had come in here for figures, and now he was offering her a job?
"You seem to get things done in a thorough, yet speedy manner. We're looking for more people who can do things right the first time and get them done quickly and with as little... interruption as possible," was his quick reply.
"I don't know... I've got a secure position here, with okay perks- I don't know that your organization could offer me as much," Darksong said hastily, still trying to sort the events out... and what did that logo mean? She thought she had seen it move-- she blamed it again on her insomnia.
"We offer a very... captivating program that offers plenty of room for advancement, especially if you get in good with the boss- he is very rarely impressed, but I think you've got what it takes. C'mon... it can't hurt you to just come check it out..." Ethan was wheedling now, and he knew it. He was running out of patience.
Darksong winced as an explosion issued from the area of her boss' office. "Perhaps we could discuss this someplace quieter?" she offered in compromise.
To Bill's
House We Go
Author: Hermione Granger
Date: 09-11-03 18:31
As Majandra led the way to Bill's cottage, Hermione and Ginny, followed by Harry and Ron, conversed about everything from Ginny's upcoming O.W.L. examinations to summer plans. Behind them, the boys were discussing the pros and cons of Quidditch, with early formulations of plays and maneuvers as well as discussion of new teammates for the new season.
Hermione, herself, couldn't wait to go home to see her parents again. She missed them dearly even though she truly didn't mind being so far away from home for such a lengthy period of time. School always made her happy, and she was especially giddy this month as final exams were rapidly coming up. There was nothing more exciting than preparing extensive study aids for each of her classes. She'd happily create them for Ron and Harry too, but she knew it would be far more fruitful for them to do such things themselves.
Bill's cottage soon came into sight, and Majandra nearly had to restrain herself from reaching the front door at a run. She was positively glowing when George opened the door and enveloped her in his arms. They moved out of the doorway, though they seemed completely oblivious to everyone else, and allowed Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron to step inside and greet Bill.
Unwanted
Correspondences
Author: Helena Tufton
Date: 09-11-03 19:09
Helena was up in Julian's apartment, reading a letter her parents had written her -- the 15th one in three weeks, to be exact. Why didn't you write us? Why couldn't you come see us? Why won't you come see us? What have you been doing these past months? Do you have any idea what you've put us through? The same questions were asked over and over again, and Helena had done little to answer them the first dozen times. She was at her wits end.
Scowling, she threw down the letter and pulled out her wand, incinerating the parchment on the spot...and burning a hole in Julian's bedspread. Helena sighed deeply and waved away the charred remains of the letter with a flick of her wand, and then she set about repairing the damage she had done to the comforter.
She knew her life as an incognito person was over the minute she met Bill at the Three Broomsticks three weeks ago. Sure enough, the first letter had arrived that evening, a three-page work full of questions, concern and relief. Helena hadn't bothered to reply to it, nor had she to the next three or four that came...all during the following day. It was after she quickly grew tired of the bombardment of owl post that she consented to scribble out a short reply to her parents:
Yes, I'm alive and well. You needn't have worried about me, nor should you be concerned about me now.
Understandably so, this hadn't been a good enough response for her parents. More letters came and with each one, Helena grew more and more annoyed. She rapidly missed the privacy and solitude she had felt all these many weeks past.
Helena's parents weren't stupid. They realized right off the bat that something wasn't right with their Helena. She had changed, she wasn't herself. Unfortunately for them, they had no idea that this was the real Helena. The girl they had known had just been a charade.
Expelling another deep sigh, Helena retrieved a clean piece of parchment from the small desk in Julian's bedroom and seated herself in the comfortable armchair. She picked up an eagle-feathered quill, unscrewed the cap to a bottle of green ink and started to pen a letter to her parents. In it she explained as calmly and succinctly as she could some of the things she'd done over the past few months, omitting certain details here and there. She claimed her solitude was prompted by the wedding fiasco, a believable-enough tale. After all, her parents thought this was the second wedding disaster in their daughter's life. It'd be a small wonder that she'd feel deeply aggrieved the second time around too. She concluded her letter with a proposal to visit her parents in Sweden within the next few weeks.
With any luck, this would satisfy her parents and give her a few moments of peace.
...but she knew it wouldn't be long before everyone knew she was back in Julian's life, and that she had no intention of ever leaving his side.
The Fallen
Prince
Author: Santhea Fennally
Date: 09-12-03 04:07
Santhea had just entered "The Three Broomsticks" when her eyes catched a rather sour looking Slytherin Seeker, or was that Slytherin Loser? Ever since the Quidditch match, Draco had been glaring daggers at basically everyone around him, and right now he seemed to be considering which hex to use on his two cronies.
The few times they had met in the Common Room or between classes had passed uneventful, both too occupied with their own problems. But this morning something extraordinary had happened. She had received an almost kind letter from her father, which finally woke her from her depression. And it also rekindled her killer instinct for which she had been infamous back at Beauxbattons. So, why not make poor suffering Draco, who she referred to as the Fallen Prince, her first victim?
Slowly and silently she approached the blond, until she finally stood right behind him. Both Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be busy thinking about food and drink, she was still amazed that the two gorillas could actually think, and so Draco had no warning when she leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "Poor, poor Draco. Trying to drown the shame about the defeat in Butterbeer now? I'm afraid it won't work that way... Just face it, you got what you deserved. You must be the worst seeker..."
Glaring daggers, Draco had turned around, his wand directly pointed at her heart. "I'm warning you only once, Fennally. Leave me alone!" Santhea shook her head, raising her hands in mock-defence, "Oh I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't know you were that upset about that stupid GAME... I never understood how people like yourself could lose it that much, just because of Quidditch." With a chuckle she added, "But of course you have the sympathy of everyone in Slytherin. Well, perhaps except for Professor Snape... I'm not sure he took it well to be defeated, yet again..."
At last, Crabbe and Goyle had realized that something was going on and were eying Draco questioningly. Santhea smiled sweetly, "I think I better leave you and your two friends to your grief then. Enjoy yourself..." She made to turn around, when Draco's hand closed about her wrist. "Not so fast. I'm not through with you just yet..."
Proposition
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 09-12-03 07:46
"You've got a deal," Ethan said, smiling. He rose from his seat and moved the chair to its rightful place next to the wall and waited for Darksong to get up as well. She sat there for a moment, watching him curiously. "Were you suggesting we hold the meeting another time, Miss Shadowhart?" Ethan asked.
"No, no," she quickly said, "and please, call me Darksong." She got up and reached for a handbag resting on top of one of the filing cabinets behind her desk. "Where would you like to go? There aren't too many places around here where we can effectively talk without being disturbed."
"I know just the place," Ethan said.
Darksong threw a cautious look over her shoulder as she left the Daily Prophet headquarters with Ethan, who seized her hand as soon as they stepped onto the busy street of Diagon Alley and whispered, "Come with me." No sooner had that been said when they both disapparated.
They reappeared somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, where endless plains rose beneath a backdrop of mountains and hills. Not another soul was in sight, save for a wild animal or two.
Ethan let go of Darksong's hand and reached for her other one, which still held the mysterious business card he had presented her with at the office. "Look at it again," he urged gently, watching her intently.
The rose emblem was gone and in its place was the serpent Darksong had briefly seen before. Also, a blank space occupied the area where the title of the fake organization and Evan Salisbury's name had been.
"What is the meaning of this?" Darksong questioned, eyeing Ethan steadily.
Ethan remained silent and continued to study her. Suddenly, her eyes grew round as two words flickered across the card. Lord Voldemort.
"I've been watching you for a week, Darksong, and from my observations I've developed the strong belief that you are exactly the type of person suitable for the Dark Lord's army. Surely you know we are on the verge of a war? Which side will you choose? Death or victory?"
Time to Shop
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 09-12-03 09:17
"Well," Bronwyn started, "I was thinking about going to Scrivenshaft's to buy some ink. I'm tired of writing in black, blue and green. I thinking of some fresh, new colors like orange, purple and maybe pink."
"Hopefully not in that combination!" Desdemona exclaimed, and Bronwyn shook her head. "You'll be the only one in school to use orange, purple or pink on the OWLs," Desi added as an afterthought.
"Well, I'm sure we'll be forced to use the standard regulation black and blue for the exams, but who knows?!" Bronwyn grinned and took a sip of her chocolate milk. After she settled her cup back down on the table top, she picked up the remainder of her giant pretzel and suggested, "I think Dervish and Banges will be the place to look for that mirror you want. I don't know how normal their stock is, but I suppose we'll find out when we get there."
She stuffed the pretzel in her mouth and swallowed it, savoring the baked taste and allowing the salty kernels to dissolve on her tongue. "As far as the Muggle music goes," Bronwyn went on, pausing a moment to take a final sip of cocoa, "I think there might be a charm for CDs, a way to play them without a CD player, since those won't work at Hogwarts anyway, but I'm afraid I am not familiar with it. I don't know if anyone has figured out how to get a Muggle radio to work, however. I'm not even sure there's any reception around here, anyway. Are you ready to go?"
Desi swallowed the last of her cinnamon roll and nodded her head. "Perhaps a trip to the library is in order," she said, rising from her seat.
Bronwyn shrugged. "If you really want to do some research during your Hogsmeade weekend..." She flashed Desi a smile and walked with her out of the Bakery.
Tricks for
Kicks
Author: Devo
Date: 09-12-03 15:30
Devo and Alexis walked slowly to the edge of the roof of one of the local taverns in town. "Ready?" asked Devo reaching far into her bag.
"Yeah... I think."
"Good the first way to drop a mud bomb is to lower your...."
"What on earth are you two doing up here? This is off limits to all students!!" yelled the Owner of the tavern.
Devo was caught off guard. She turned around as fast as she could be her robe got caught on a lose nail. Devo wobbled for a few seconds and then she felt the wind against her face. All she could hear was the faint yell of Alexis. "Devo!"
Then all went black...
The Ice Princess
Author: Draco Malfoy
Date: 09-12-03 16:26
Draco's grip tightened on Santhea's wrist, and he roughly pulled her to him and settled her on his lap with her back to him. He spoke into her ear. "What's this? You've suddenly found your edge again. And what of your dear, sweet brother? Have you forgotten him already?"
He grinned as he felt her tense. She moved to get up and tear her wrist from his grasp, but he only held onto her tighter. "What would the others think," Draco hissed, "if they knew the truth? If they knew that your brother was nothing but a wimpy Ravenclaw who got himself killed?"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Santhea spat furiously.
Draco smirked "Oooh, I struck a nerve," he said, using his normal tone of voice. He released her arm and watched with pleasure as she sprang up and whirled around, glaring at him heatedly.
"Don't you dare," Santhea started, but Draco quickly cut her off.
"Don't you dare what?" He smirked.
She narrowed her eyes and deliberated with her thoughts for a moment before spinning on her heel and storming out of The Three Broomsticks.
Draco turned to his comrades and laughed, and they laughed with him.
Boxed In
Author: Viktor Krum
Date: 09-12-03 17:42
Viktor squints against the harsh light, light that would normally seem dim, as the door creaks open. Stefka set down a full container of water and slides in food, then removes the empty jug, the picnic style hamper, also empty and the partially full waste bucket. Without a word to Viktor, just a malicious grin though it's hidden by the shadow cast the darkness of the closet-sized cell and from the light behind her, Stefka shoves an empty bucket inside then slams the door shut.
It doesn't take Viktor's eyes long to readjust to the deep gray of his prison. Just enough light ekes through small gaps between the door and the jam to allow Viktor to make out the only details in this tiny space, the jug, the hamper of food and the bucket. At least the bucket has a cover though Viktor's sure by this time he'd be somewhat used to any smells coming from it the more it's used. The cell is a featureless, short, narrow rectangle, so small that Viktor cannot even fully extend his leg even if his back is pressed firmly against one wall. The height of the cell is just as cramped. The door is also short, more suited to someone of the stature of a small child.
Since being captured, Koyla and his followers have kept Viktor in this Lilliputian sized cell, only allowing him out of it twice so far. Both of those times, Viktor's muscles were so stiffed and cramped from sitting in a space so small he cannot fully recline nor stand up all the way that even if an escape opportunity had arisen, Viktor doubts he would have been able to take advantage of it much less made a success of it.
With nothing to mark the time and his own internal clock now greatly out of whack after days on end of sitting in the dark, Viktor has lost all track of how long he's been here. All Viktor knows at this point is he's been gone far too long not to have been missed and that means the Bulgarian Ministry, his coach and team, and his family and friends must be scouring the continent for him. The only thing that has Viktor truly puzzled is why Koyla hasn't had him tortured or killed by now. Real torture that is. Being in the small cell with extremely little light and a bucket to go in when the need hits as well as no one speaking to him, not even to taunt him, is a form of torture, psychological in nature, but the situation could certainly could be worse.
Viktor suppresses a sigh, breaks a chunk of one of the loaves of bread in the hamper and tries to get comfortable though he knows by now comfort is not to be found. Taking a bite of the bread, Viktor leans his head back, eyes closes, and slowly chews while keeping his ears open for any sounds emanating beyond the door. As always since waking up in this cell, there is a little voice in the back of Viktor's mind repeating the optimistic mantra, "Help will arrive soon. Help will arrive soon."
Back in Black
Author: Bellatrix Lestrange
Date: 09-12-03 20:06
As the final rays of sunlight vanished from the sky, the room grew steadily darker. After a while the gloom became so thick that it was hard to make out any shape at all. The mansion was silent; but then it had been for years.
Any person who strayed into this sprawling house might be forgiven for thinking it derelict and abandoned, but on closer inspection would realize that the place was dust free and clean. The cavernous room managed to dwarf even the largest piece of furniture, its ceiling hidden in the shadows above. Grouped around the stone fireplace were two settees, heavily stuffed and covered with sumptuous material. A hunched shadow lay on the carpet between them, unmoving.
There was an impatient sigh from near the back of the room. Then, a hissed command. "Lumos"
Over on the table her wand tip ignited, sending a warm glow across the room. Bellatrix wished the wand's light could keep her warm – ever since her stay in Azkaban the world seemed cold and barren.
The shadow on the carpet moved, and a quiet groan issued from the area in front of the fireplace. Stupid Muggle, she thought. How blind they were, like newborn animals. Wishing only to believe in the good things, the things that kept them safe and happy in their fuzzy little world. Well, this muggle had wandered into her world now, and she had enjoyed the past couple of hours playing with him. She never seemed to get bored with the Cruciatus curse, rather it seemed to become more fun the more you used it. She supposed it was because you really had to want it to work to use it, to mean the words. Of course her moment of triumph was long past – how the Longbottom's had suffered at her hands. Now she was forced to play here, torturing meaningless humans in order to while away the moments.
Bellatrix stood up, walking quietly across the barely lit room. The muggle looked up, seeing only a gaunt figure with streaming black hair and dark robes descending on him, rather like the angel of death come for his soul. His whole body was meaningless pain, the hours of torment dulling his senses. He heard a whispered word, and then excruciating, suffocating pain throughout his psyche, his whole body bending in an effort to block it out, almost snapping his spine with the effort.
Bellatrix watched in detached interest as life left the muggle, leaving only an empty shell. She turned and walked back towards her chair. "Bored now," she whispered. "BoredÉ"
Don't Shoot
the Messenger
Author: H Potter
Date: 09-12-03 21:01
Mere minutes at arriving at Bill's, George and Majandra excuse themselves saying they need to talk in private and are going on a walk. Immediately after they've practically run hand in hand out the door, Bill grins sheepishly at the rest of the group.
"I had planned to have everything ready before you lot arrived. A complete picnic spread. I'm sorry to say I've not had a chance to pick anything up yet much less have it all organized and ready."
Bill pauses, hands rubbing together as if in anticipation, and surveys the four teens. Realizing he's got more to say, they all look at him expectantly. Bill grins again. "Right. How about Ron, you go to Briar's and pick up dessert. Briar said she'd have it ready first thing this morning, all boxed up with my name written on the package and sitting on the counter. Ginny and Hermione. The Spinning Horn should have an order ready for us. It's sandwiches, cold meats, cheeses, that sort of thing. Here's the money. Harry, if you will, come with me to get the selection of beverages from The Three Broomsticks. We'll all meet back here. First ones back grab some blankets for us to spread out. Napkins, plates, cutlery need to be packed up. Let's see, what else? Oh yes, someone remind me to write a note to tack up on the door to let George and Maj know where to find us."
The foursome nod eagerly as Bill rattles off the instructions. Everyone's out the door heading to their respective destinations. As they walk to The Three Broomsticks, Harry asks Bill questions about what led Bill to become a curse breaker. Harry also explains how he's been thinking of becoming an auror. The conversation continues as they fill a box with a nice selection of icy cold drinks and each taking hold of a handle, haul the box out the door and start walking the same route they've just come.
Harry is wholly unprepared for the sudden, lurching stop Bill makes. Harry only realizes Bill has stopped when he himself is jerked to a halt, nearly losing his grip on the box "Everything all right, Bill?"
Expecting Bill to say something along the lines of having nearly lost his hold on the heavy box, Harry is surprised when Bill takes a deep breath and gives Harry the an almost grave look. "Harry, I need to tell you something and I'm not sure you'll want the others around to hear it."
Harry nods his head slowly, wondering what on earth Bill has to say that is best said in private. Bill resumes walking but this time on a more circuitous route back to his home. Harry suddenly feels nervous and wishes Bill would hurry up and get it over with.
Last Workshop
of the Term
Author: Coco Nutt
Date: 09-12-03 22:27
Fritz, Coco and a large number of other first and second years, have trooped down to the pitch for their last workshop with Viktor and his mates. For Coco this is a sad day indeed for what great joy is there, other than talking to Pea of course, than soaring like a bird? Waiting for the eager students are Dimitrov, Levski, and Volkov but no Viktor.
When it appears that all who are coming have arrived, the three men gather the kids around them in a circle. In his broken English Levski explains, "Wiktor, he iz on waykayshun."
A groan of disappointment goes through the small crowd though many are quick to say things such as, "We're glad you three could make it!" and "Thanks for coming even if Viktor couldn't!"
Dimitrov holds his hands up to silence the youngsters. "Vait! Vait! He iz on waykayshun but in letter Wiktor zaid he vud be being here but vud be being late. Ve are to be starting vitout heem. Zo let uz be making three groupz, no?"
Half an hour later, as Volkov is giving pointers to Coco, Fritz, and the others in his group, Alanna taps the man on the shoulder and nods in the direction of the castle, "Look, there's Viktor."
