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Snippet #2205952

located in Hogwarts, a part of Legends in the Making, one of the many universes on RPG.

Hogwarts

"The finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world." - Hagrid

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Nobody really said much to her inquiry at first, which was a sure sign that Izzie had gone off and shoved her foot down her mouth again. She was probably about to find out Tarvel was fuckin' dead or some shit, and then she'd feel all shitty, 'cause she'd been all 'where the fuck is Tarvel', like there wasn't nothin' about it, and then it'd turn out she was dead, and Izzie had gone off talkin' shit again, and people would hate her, 'cause everyone here had liked Tarvel, and nobody here was too big a fan of Izzie to begin with, so that would kinda suck. Which would, on second thought, going back to the whole 'dead Tarvel' thing, probably explain what was up with Erick. 'cause he'd been pretty good friends with Jast. Izzie hadn't. She was way too shy and always looked nervous as fuck, and it made her look all unconfident, which Izzie, not without a note of irony, found off-putting. Not like Blacktalow's confident silence. Only spoke when he really had summat to say. Izzie just didn't like shy people, so it was pretty much a given that she 'n Tarvel Jast were not destined to be inseparable friends.

Fuck, where had she been going with this... oh yeah! Dead Tarvel. Not a happy thought. Izzie wasn't about to go and start sobbing off in her room or somethin' like that, but she wasn't gonna be happy 'bout it neither. Like, she'd be...y'know, sad as anybody else when someone died that they didn't really know but had kinda hung out in the same general...area as? Made sense to Izzie. People dyin' wasn't somethin' she was unused to. Couldn't really be that way growin' up in the Gorbals. 'cause for fuck's sake, when a place is called 'gore balls', you can bet your sweet 'lil ass it weren't gonna be no fuckin' paradise. Wait, shit, there had been a point to all this... wait, yeah. The point was that she wasn't gonna be too torn up over Tarvel's death. Wasn't gonna be all 'FUCK YEAH FUCK THAT CHICK NOW SHE'S DEAD' (experience had taught her people did not react well to that), but she wasn't real sad about it. She was just concerned about how Erick was maybe takin' it--

The above thought process had occupied all of about one second before Celine actually replied to Izzie.

"She's gone. Family issues."

"...oh." Izzie scratched her head. "So she ain't dead. Not that she was supposed to be dead. But she mighta been. It was a valid conclusion at the time. I'm... gonna stop talkin' now."

Which had probably been a good decision, because when she stopped talking, Cece was holdin' out some kinda paper--looked upon closer examination like a letter of some kind, addressed to Tarvel, so Izzie shook her head. "Nah. Looks private. I get the gist of it." Family issues. 'nuff said. Izzie didn't wanna be all pryin' inta Jast's private letters 'n shit. What good woulda come of it anyway? She didn't need to know the specifics. Shit, it'd probably just end with her sayin' somethin' insulting and then everyone hatin' her even more for it. Izzie knew when to stay well away from that kinda thing.

She was most grateful when people finally decided to get on with the skippin' class and drinkin' in the woods. Looked to her like it was shapin' up to be her (of course), Monty (of course), Celine (not unexpected), and Niles (who'da guessed? Not Izzie.). Erick was... she glanced around, just in time to catch Erick flippin' everyone the bird as he walked away. Er wait, no, that was the peace sign. Her brow furrowed in confusion, half over how she'd goofed that one up, and half over where he was goin' off to-- didn't seem like somethin' Erick would be averse to, this whole 'goin' off into the woods and gettin' piss drunk' thing. Okay, now that she thought about it that way, maybe it was. She turned away from the retreating figure, just as the others started gettin' up and movin' out towards the woods. Not to be left behind, Izzie hastened to join them.

It was one helluva long ass walk-- long enough for Izzie to get bored (which indicated that it was at least two minutes, maybe even more). So she figured, fuck it, might as well put the time to productive use. And to this end, she spent half of it thinking up new and inventive cuss words for later use. However, she grew bored with this at length, and after all, Izzie figured cussing was like art-- it hadda flow outta you. Come from the soul and all that bullshit. So when she got sick'a that, she got another idea: she was trudging along through the freakiest menagerie of scary shit in the country, on her way to get drunk with three friends. What better time to try her hand at turning into an Animagus again? Worst case scenario, she lit herself on fire again. Or lit the forest on fire. Either way, totally fixable.

So she set to doin' that as she fell back a bit behind the rest of the gang. Fat lotta good it was doin', though. Seemed for a few minutes like all Izzie was accomplishing was looking constipated. Just gotta concentrate, she reminded herself irascibly. Just 'cause I couldn't do it alone in the silence of the dorm room doesn't mean I can't do it in the middle of a forest populated by friggin' monsters. ...wait a second. No, goddammit, she could totally do this. Her brow furrowed in renewed effort, and she thought of nothing except becoming an animal. The forest around her disappeared. Up ahead, Celine and Monty and Niles disappeared along with it. The sounds of the Forbidden Forest vanished, replaced with a silence so complete as to be more than the mere absence of sound--it was the absence of all things, the negation of existence itself, the utter annihilation of the w--

Then she ran smack into a tree.





When Izzie woke up, something was very, very wrong.

Not the pounding pain in her head. She could only all too clearly remember running face first into that goddamn tree. "Motherfucker," she grunted as she attempted to pull herself to her feet, and then stopped short as she realised two things. For one, her words hadn't come out as words. Her voice had emerged as a low, guttural growl, a bestial snarl. And she was not too pre-occupied with that realisation to come upon another: namely, when she attempted to get to her feet, she found that now involved more feet than usual.

Specifically, it now involved four large, orange, furry paws.

When Izzie realised that she sure as hell was no kind of human anymore, she was pretty certain that hit to the head was just fuckin' with her. Maybe it'd finally knocked loose whatever tenuous little strand of sense and sanity had been workin' overtime like Atlas holdin' up the world. She'd finally gone bonkers for good. People'd been sayin' she was one sandwich short of a full picnic for ages, and apparently all it'd taken to make 'em right was a face to face meeting with a tree. Figures I'd crack in the middle of a freakazoid forest thinkin' I'm a fuckin' tiger or...whatever the fuck I seem to think I am now...

And she was convinced of it right up until she started actually getting to her feet and she realised, holy shit, she wasn't dreamin' this. The feeling of the moist coagulation of dirt and mud beneath her four paws was as alien a sensation as any she'd ever felt before, but it was definitely real, and those were definitely four paws. She slowly turned her head, which was now a hell of a lot closer to the ground than usual, to look behind her, and at the body which, in what was probably the weirdest part of it all, was now behind her head, not beneath it... which almost didn't even make sense to Izzie. What she saw was about six feet of rusty orange and black fur, the bristly hair interspersed with markings suspiciously similar to both tattoos and scars; it felt rather like wearing a fur coat, an unusual and slightly uncomfortable sensation considering the summer heat, but as far as priorities went at this point, feeling comfortable was not among them.

"IT WORKED!" Izzie belted out happily, except that, much to her continued elation, it came out as a jubilant little bark. It had worked--she was an Animagus, and not even something retarded like a capybara or a cockroach, neither! Fuckin' tiger, man? What more could a person ask! she mused, grinning from ear to ear, revealing rows of what she hoped were big, sharp, scary teeth. Man, words (or, as it were in this situation, snarls) could not possibly depict the triumph of this moment. Izzie Jackson--Animagus. Tiger Animagus. And apparently all it'd taken was running headfirst into a tree, which Izzie was pretty sure she'd done before and she hadn't woken up as a tiger, but y'know what they said--don't look a gift horse in the mouth and whatnot.

For some reason, thinking of horses prompted Izzie to remember, oh yeah, where the fuck're Niles and the others? They had to check this shit out, man. She cast her keen eyes from side to side, before at last they fell upon the retreating back of what was definitely one of the others. Without thinking, Izzie bolted forward, the strong, muscular legs carrying her a little faster and a little more aggressively than she'd expected, and then, before she could stop to realise what she was about to do, she shouted an extended, "Oi!"

A throaty, powerful roar reverberated through the forest, bouncing off the twisting branches and ruffling through the dark, overcast leaves. Ah shit. Izzie skidded to a halt as she came up behind the others, and then stopped in time to realise... Uh, how do I go back? Maybe it was like the opposite of turning into an animal-- you hadda think really hard about being human. Except that didn't work: she sat there with her face all screwed up in concentration, thinking really hard about being...well, herself again, but it did no good. She woulda scratched her head, except she was pretty sure in this state she'd probably carve her skull open doing that. Maybe I need to run into that tree again, she reasoned, half forgetting the others existed for a moment as she pondered this quandary.