The OWLs
Author: Isolde
Date: 09-25-03 08:32
Isolde slipped into the Potions classroom with Pyrrhus, nervous beyond belief. The OWL exams were finally upon them. Where had the time gone? Despite having wanted to get a full-night's rest, Isolde hadn't been able to sleep. She, like many of her comrades, had spent a good portion of last night cramming Potions formulas and various charms and spells into her brain, fearful that she'd forget it all by the morning.
Professor Snape was waiting at the head of the classroom, watching all who entered. He checked the time impatiently, eager for the exam to be underway. His co-proctor, Professor Sorcha, had yet to arrive.
Isolde slipped into her seat and flipped open her notes, desperate to use what little time she had left to review everything she had learned over the past five years.
Destiny Calls
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 09-25-03 11:12
Ethan slipped the vial of polyjuice potion from his robe pocket and downed its contents. It was his last batch and would last him until sometime during the initiation ceremony when he would no longer feel the need to stay incognito. With Darksong successfully turned to the dark side, Evan Salisbury could disappear and Ethan Somerset could re-emerge, ready to tackle the next duty thrown his way.
Tossing the vial aside, Ethan approached Kep-Tian where he was snoozing on the sofa and nudged him gently. "It's time to go," Ethan said.
He cast a look to the other end of the couch where Darksong was sitting, eyes focused longingly outside the window. "It's time to go face your destiny," Ethan said. Kep-Tian and Darksong both rose to their feet, one perhaps a little more reluctantly than the other, and they walked to Ethan, who held out his hands. They each took one, and together they disapparated from Moscow.
Ready for
the O.W.L.s
Author: Prof Flitwick
Date: 09-25-03 13:03
Having prepared the Charms Classroom for this year's Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations, I climb to my customary perch atop my lectern. Each seat has a special quill which has been provided with the standard "anti-cheating" charms. Professor Sacheverell is passing out the sealed parchment scrolls, one to each seat. She finishes this final task and comes to stand beside me at the front of the room. Together, we watch as my group of Fifth-year Ravenclaws filters into the room, taking seats wherever they find a quill and a parchment. Seven of them... altogether, as fine a group as has passed through Ravenclaw House in many a year. I whisper the names to Saffron, by way of introduction. Front row, left side, the Trieghers; Christina, Vincent and Magritte. On the right we have; Luna Lovegood, Kennard Phillips, Mirai Schultz and Diether Jameson.
Once they are settled, I begin the announcements and explanations. "Good morning, and welcome to your first, last and only O.W.L Examination. Professor Sacheverell, whom you know from Divinations class, will be assisting me in proctoring today's test. At precisely nine o'clock, the wax seal on your parchment will break. Please do not try to force the issue beforehand... you are likely to damage the parchment. You have a special quill and an inkwell which will never run dry. At precisely twelve o'clock, the quill will stop writing."
I take a deep breath and continue. "Today's examination covers seven areas of your studies; Defense Against Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, Herbology and History of Magic. The test section for each subject consists of twenty questions, each of which can be answered with either a single word or a short sentence. Please do not get too "wordy". If you do not know the answer, leave it blank. Our grading system has a built-in penalty for guessing. Are there any questions?"
I look around the room. No hands are raised, so I am assuming everyone has understood. There are a few red-rimmed eyes, but most appear to be alert and reasonably well rested. "All right, then. It is almost time. When the seal cracks, you may begin. Oh! I almost forgot to mention... please write your name in the space provided at the top of the parchment." As I finish, there is the sound of a series of "cracks" throughout the room. Ah! Right on time! I think to myself.
MOM: Breakfast
Gruel
Author: Nakshidil Aksoy
Date: 09-25-03 15:39
The lift whispered open its doors.
"Ah, Madame Hugo! What a week, eh? Been visiting friends down in Being Division?"
"Aksoy, Madame Umbridge. And no, I haven't."
"Askoy," repeated Dolores Umbridge. The word slid over her pale tongue and seemed to stick behind her lips, caught up in her teeth. The logjam robbed the name of its crispness, rendering it a croaking agzug. "Agzug," it came again. "A greeting?"
"My name."
"Oh, dear," tutted the woman sweetly. "Of course, what a mistake to have made. Madam Agzug. Do forgive me, I haven't the talent for learning inhuman tongues."
Nakshidil suppressed a sigh. "How fortunate for you, then, Madame Umbridge, that my name is Turkish. With time, you may yet be able to learn it."
This was the same thread which was sewn into every exchange between herself and amphibian Dolores Umbridge, a middle-management factotum from the Minister's Office. Umbridge had the instincts of a Machiavelli, the finesse of a Blast-ended Skrewt, and the charisma of cold dish of dogporridge stew. It was a combination which left the woman an ill-concealed, puritanical bully. She hated part-humans, she was convinced that immigrants belonged elsewhere, and above all else she believed that her own judgments were the soundest and most accurate possible.
Just now she was frowning behind her smile, trying to puzzle out in what way she had just been insulted; Nakshidil wondered again whether Dolores truly understood how transparent she was. "Ahem," erupted from Dolores' throat. It was her favorite conversational tactic. She used it to stall for time in the weekly Ministry meetings when she (frequently) felt the need to stall, backpedal, or both. Her eyes cast about as she sought to recover the upper hand. "I was just saying, Madame Agzug, just now to myself, what an astonishing and distressing week this has been, and then as I was thinking it, here you were on the lift!"
It was a crude attempt, and Nakshidil decided to be kind enough to ignore it in case Dolores had a more entertaining salvo in store. "This week?" she asked. "Have you been distressed?"
"I have been concerned, I suppose, I should say," said Dolores, drawing herself up to her full height. It wasn't often she had the opportunity to look down at someone she looked down upon; when she took it upon herself to sortie against The Enemy, Dolores always puffed herself out to her tallest and widest. "Concerned for the image of the Ministry, what with the shocking attack at St. Mungos, and the expulsion of those Germans. Such disturbing publicity. I believe that Miss Barret was on an assignment with you at the time. You know, it's funny -- up until a few weeks ago..." (and her meaning was clear; she may as well have said until your appointment) "I would never have thought anyone would ever have cause to make allegations against her. I tend to find that rumors have *some* basis."
"Voleta Barret was acquitted, Madame Umbridge," interrupted Nakshidil, straightening the neckline of her outer coat. "Very quickly, too, even considering that no charges were forthcoming." Her next words were sharper than perhaps she had intended. "As for the Germans, I-"
"I understand that they are alleging unfair practices against your Ministry Department," said Dolores silkily.
The perizade carefully trained her eyes to a spot an inch to the left of Dolores' head, focusing her irritation into a small square away from the Undersecretary's delightfully flammable hair. "Minister MacMillan and Minister Fudge have already endorsed the action as necessary to preserve favorable trade with-"
"I understand that they're favorably disposed toward you," Dolores cut in with an unpleasantly conspiratorial smile. "It can't be an easy transition, having to earn your living when you had been used to... other means."
The fever line behind Nakshidil's eyes suddenly relaxed into coolness. Toothless "immorality" insinuations? Was this all Umbridge could think of this morning? She was not a clever combatant on her best days. This was not one of those; she had tired already. Not an easy transition.... It was so unconsciously accurate as to be amusing.
"You've no idea," she agreed, with a cryptic comfort.
Dolores' mouth bowed upwards into a pursed line. She loathed being thwarted; she loathed missing a mark. She loathed what she loathed, and the fact of her loathing was proof enough for her that her target was loathsome. She had meant to nettle the filthy djinn woman and was furious at Nakshidil's refusal to be stung. "I'd take care," she said with more huffiness than self-awareness. "You can only get so far on notoriety, my dear, and eventually the bills must be paid."
Dolores' words of advice were interrupted by the lift bell as the car slid into place at Nakshidil's floor. The doors rolled open; without a glance (apologetic or otherwise) up at the Undersecretary's frilly, wide frame, Nakshidil straightened her sash and cap and strolled out of the lift.
Dolores, however, was not yet finished. "Be careful you don't burn any bridges behind you, Madam Agzug..." (Aksoy, corrected Nakshidil under her breath). "I'm sorry to be the only one to be direct and frank with you. I'm sure I don't know why, but unpleasantness seems to be following you about in the Ministry," she declared stoutly, following Nakshidil through the corridor.
The women had reached the open archway leading into the reception area of the Department of International Wizarding Cooperation. Director Michael MacMillan stood within, chatting with the Italian Ambassador to the Ministry. "Ah, Madame Aksoy," he greeted Nakshidil. "We've just been discussing-" His words broke off at Nakshidil's subtle brow lift and head tilt; he noticed Dolores at his deputy's elbow.
"Madame Umbridge," he greeted Dolores effusively. "How good of you to come all the way here. Unfortunately, just now we're going in to a meeting; if you could just kindly leave any messages you've brought from the Minister's office with Gulbehar..."
Dolores colored fiercely at the insinuation that she was a mere courier. "I've no messages, Director, I was-"
"Madame Umbridge was just giving me a practical demonstration of a trend she's noticed," cut in Nakshidil smoothly. "Thank you so much, Madame."
The woman turned a little purpler, swelling like a toad. "Yes," she bit out, scrambling for tact. "Always glad to be of help to a fellow Ministry official. Good day." Spinning on a heel, Dolores marched herself out of the office.
"The Madame Umbridge," offered the Italian ambassador, "seems a bit disenchanted this morning."
Director MacMillian's only reply was a questioning glance to Nakshidil, who shrugged. "The Minister's office has had a great deal of work this week," she said with diffidence. "I believe they are feeling under some pressure."
The men stood back to allow her to precede them into the small conference room. "She's not harmless, you know," murmured MacMillan as he seated Nakshidil beside him at the table.
All she could do was acknowledge his warning with a small nod. For the time being, the jealousy and prejudice of Dolores Umbridge would have to be the least of her concerns.
Daddy Always
Says...
Author: Luna Lovegood
Date: 09-25-03 18:26
...that, if you're prepared for anything, nothing will happen that you can't handle. I'm not sure I've always agreed with him, but I do have to admit that his mishaps have always been minor. It was Mum who was more adventurous, less likely to look ahead.
Daddy was able to send an owl wishing me well this morning. "An owl for your OWLS," he wrote cheerily. Mum couldn't send anything, of course, but I know she's here near me. Strange how I can go for days without thinking of her, and then, in a flash, she's so near...so real, so close.
I wonder if Harry ever feels his parents' presence around him. I'll bet he does. No matter what the questions are today, I do know the answer to one question: "What survives death?" The answer is "love."
Professor Flitwick finished his opening speech, and Luna gave him a shy, but truly genuine, smile. Then the seal on her parchment broke and Luna bent her head over her exam, buoyed not only by her knowledge, but also the caring that surrounded her.
Quills scratched fiercely in the otherwise quiet room. OWLS had come to the Hogwarts House of Knowledge, noble Ravenclaw.
Location Unknown:
Calling Them to Me
Author: Voldemort
Date: 09-25-03 18:33
New followers and old...they have been in contact with me secretly about their work. It is time they gathered here and received new instructions, time to turn up the heat, but only a bit. It is not yet time to start fires...just send out a few sparks.
"Wormtail. Come."
He does, sniveling as usual. I poke the Dark Mark on his arm–hard, much harder than I need to. He whimpers in pain. His mark burns, so does every other Death Eaters.
Then they begin to apparate.
"Welcome, Death Eaters." I say to them.
Bribery?
Author: Dierna ní Cíaran
Date: 09-25-03 19:25
Saturday morning found me just as happy as the previous couple of days. So I decide to share my daily installment of Briar's baking with someone who's seen me too often when I'm down or frustrated.
I walk to Nevyyn's shop and enter. "An magdin maith!" I say brightly. "I've come to be a bad influence and lure you away from the shop. I even brought a bribe." I show him a basket with various baked delights.
"And what is the cause of your jubilance, young lady?" He asks. "The return and recovery of one of my oldest and closest friend." I say "He was in St. Mungo's a while, but is out now and almost back to his usual self. Accept my bribe and I'll tell the story."
Writing and
Writing and Writing
Author: Brett Kingston
Date: 09-25-03 21:58
Brett writes at a steady pace, not wanting to get hand cramps halfway through the OWLs. He completes one essay style question easily answered in six paragraphs and is relieved to find the next question to require a very short answer. Name one use of the Abyssinian shrivelfig.
Brett writes When peeled, one use of the Abyssinian shrivelfig is in a Shrinking Solution.
Moving on to the next question, Brett stifles a groan at seeing it's a history question and one that will take at least a full page to answer properly. Organizing his thoughts to write the reply, Brett dips his quill in the inkwell and begins writing again.
Nap Time
Author: Jet
Date: 09-25-03 23:51
At just after the halfway point through the OWLs, Jet puts down his quill. He organizes his test booklet and the many parchment pages with the carefully written answers into a neat stack then puts his head down, promptly falling asleep. A moment later a tap on his shoulder followed by Professor Spencer quietly asking, "Mr. Obsidian? Jet? Is everything all right?" has Jet sitting up straight again.
He blinks a couple of times then in a low voice he replies, "Yes, everything's fine."
The professor's forehead wrinkles. "Then don't stop now to take a nap, dear. Plenty of time after the OWLs are completed."
"I'm done."
"Pardon?"
"I've finished so now I'm taking a nap until we're excused."
By way of ending the conversation, Jet puts his head down again and is immediately asleep.
Location
Unknown: The Call of Her Lord
Author: Amashelle
Date: 09-26-03 07:39
It had been one of those days where she was slow to start, determined to embrace the luxuries of Saturday with open arms, but even as she lay staring up at the ceiling listening to the quiet ticking of her clock as the seconds slumped by, she knew that she should get a move on. There were things she needed to do today.
Reluctantly, she dragged herself from the warm haven of her bed and dazedly went through the motions of washing, dressing and, with a bit more eagerness, preparing breakfast.
It may have been her imagination, but the bacon and eggs she'd prepared herself tasted somewhat sweeter this morning, a sure sign that much would be accomplished.
She was halfway through washing up when she felt it. A searing pain that shot though her left arm, as though the very skin of the appendage had spontaneously caught fire. Smiling as her now fully-awake mind made the swift connections, she straightened, pulled a long black robe from where it hung on the wall and, with a 'crack', was gone.
Without a word, she approached her master and took her place in the circle that was slowly forming around him. She was pleased to note that she was among the first to arrive. She had missed these secret meetings in his absence, but all would be made right again, all they needed was a little more time.
Painful Memory
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 09-26-03 09:50
Bronwyn set down her quill for a moment to soothe her aching hand. She had written so much already, and she was only halfway through the exam! Groaning inwardly, Bronwyn cast a fleeting glance around the classroom. The two proctors roamed the chamber, sweeping watchful eyes from student to student. Most of the students, Desdemona included, were busy scribbling away on their parchments, but one was fast asleep!
Bronwyn redirected her gaze to the exam booklet in front of her and tried to regain her concentration. Suddenly, Kendra's voice echoed in her mind. "Remember, Brownyn, doing well on exams is always important. You've studied hard. Don't let yourself get distracted."
And suddenly, Brownyn felt a pang of sorrow assail her body. It was nearly a year since Kendra's untimely death. It was nearly a year since Brownyn had last seen her best friend alive. A single tear fell from the gathering pool in Brownyn's eyes and splattered onto the parchment on the desk.
Don't cry, Brownyn, she told herself. Don't let yourself get distracted.
She did her best to carry on, fighting the sadness that enveloped her, and even though the added knowledge that Kendra wasn't here with her taking the OWLs disturbed her immensely, Bronwyn managed at last to clear her mind of everything except for the task at hand.
Only a Century
Apart
Author: Alexis Black
Date: 09-26-03 10:12
Alexis felt fairly confident during her OWLs. Since she had a fairly good work ethic all year it wasn't quite as bad as she expected.
It was; however, so incredibly long.
scratchscratchsnifflescratchscratchcoughscratchscratch
If only someone would make some sort of noise, or if the roof caved in.
scratchscratchscratch
...or maybe a tornado
scratchscratch
Are there tornados in northern England?
scratchscratchscratchscratch
The goblin rebellion of 1673 had Balg the Bloody in it.
scratchscratchscratch
...or was he in the rebellion of 1763?
Scratchscratchscratchscratchscratchsnifflesigh
The
Way to an Old Man's Heart
Author: Nevvyn
Date: 09-26-03 11:17
Dierna turned up on Saturday morning with, of all things, a basket of baked goodies from Briar's. "Come in! Come in, dear lady! Have a seat while I prepare us some tea." I tap the kettle and say "Calientus!" Within moments, the kettle is whistling merrily. I dump a healthy handful of good Darjeeling in the pot and pour the boiling water. The heavenly aroma coming from Dierna's basket are making my mouth water, but I resolve to wait the full three minutes for proper brewing. "So! It's bribery, you say! Well, you have certainly found my price!" I laugh at my own jest. At last, the tea is ready to pour. I have set out my best old Royal Doulton cups and plates, the ones with the hand-painted flowers in the border. The bouquet of the tea blends with the scents from the basket.
"So!" I begin. "This friend of yours... It wasn't that nice Michael Turin chap, was it?"
The Calling
Author: Severus Snape
Date: 09-26-03 11:48
Professor Snape walked up and down the aisles between the tables, casting cold stares from face to face as he progressed. All of his fifth year students were scribbling furiously on their parchments, and some looked more confident than others in their great endeavor. As Snape walked past Black's desk, a scorching pain seared through the mark on his forearm. His graceful movements ended abruptly as he jerked to a halt and clasped his arm with his other hand.
From across the room, Professor Sorcha shot him a questioning look but Snape ignored it and the stares of some of the observant students in the room. After a brief moment, Snape swept his coal, black eyes across the chamber daring anyone to continue to watch him, and several heads immediately ducked down over their parchments. Furious scratching resumed and Snape went on surveying his students, though his mind was clearly not on the OWLs any longer.
Voldemort had called his Death Eaters to him. For what purpose?
Location Unknown:
The Arrival
Author: Bellatrix Lestrange
Date: 09-26-03 18:30
Bellatrix was dozing on her daybed in the bedroom, trying to gain some strength. Strength to continue onÉstrength not to strangle the excuse of a house-elf called Nekros. His cooking was becoming appalling and the house was starting to look untidy again.
Just as she drifted off into some semblance of sleep she felt a slow tingle spread through her left arm, followed by a sharp burning sting. She sat up immediately, all thoughts of rest disappearing from her mind. Suddenly she was alert, her mind no longer dull, but quick and ready for action.
"Master..." she whispers longingly.
Looking towards the door she sees Rodolphus standing there, cloak on, with another folded over his arm. Bellatrix stands up and reaches for the cloak, sweeping it around her shoulders and pulling the voluminous hood over her thick hair.
Without a word they both look at each other and then disapparate, arriving together in a darkened room. Bellatrix sees that some of the other Death Eaters have already arrived, indeed Amashelle and Drucilla are already here. With a silent nod to each of them, she looks around the circle, noting some spaces are still empty.
Bellatrix looks towards her master and then bows deeply to him. "Tell me how I can serve you best, Master," she asks.
Friendly Chatter
About Friends
Author: Dierna ní Cíaran
Date: 09-26-03 18:55
"No, Michael is . . . well, I can't say safe, but so far unharmed." I assure Nevyyn. "My friend is Remus Lupin, we go back to student days at Hogwarts. I'd hired him for the Auror department on a per-assignment basis. He didn't go through auror training, but is certainly clever and brave enough to be one. A while back a werewolf who calls himself Lou Garou reappeared - we'd known about him for years - and began gathering other werewolves to join Voldemort. He needed to be stopped, but it was too risky to send an auror there. So I sent Remus - he too is a werewolf."
I take a sip of the tea.
"Garou is extremely distrustful, and because of the nature of this Mission Remus couldn't correspond with me while away. It would risk him being caught. I understood that, but as months went by I became more worried. Then I received a letter from St Mungo's a few weeks ago saying he had been found collapsed in Diagon Alley. Remus drifted in and out of consciousness and the Healers were concerned for him. I visited everyday, praying he'd recover. I wouldn't let myself think that he wouldn't. And on Thursday night he came-to. He's still weak and can't remember what happened to him, but that's to be expected." I smile more. "So I am relived and elated at his recovery. Remus Lupin is a very special man, and one of the few close friends I have from school."
Location Unknown:
All Have Gathered
Author: Voldemort
Date: 09-26-03 19:47
All my loyal followers have gathered, and I walk around the circle occasionally stopping to talk to certain ones.
"Welcome, Bellatrix, it's good to have you back with us . . . and you too Rodolphus."
"Amashelle, you are bored now at the Ministry, but I have something special for you to do."
"And Drucilla, you work tirelessly, but perhaps its time to expand your efforts."
At the top of the circle I stop. "Indeed. I have something for all of you to do, but first meet your new comrades. Ethan Somerset has been recruiting and brought me four new followers. Bring them forward, Ethan."
