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Natasha Daggerman

"I'd much rather be a witty fool than a foolish wit."

0 · 1,224 views · located in Magnus Grexx

a character in “Witchcraft And Wizardry”, as played by katyisaladybug

Description




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"Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present."




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Name
Natasha Nicole Daggerman

Age
17

Year
7th.

Gender
Female. Unless she's...well...we'll get to that part later.

House
Vulpes.

Pet
None. Her cat dropped dead last year and she's hesitant to get a new one.

Wand
Hickory wood, dragon heartsring core, 12 and 1/2 inches. {x}

Birthplace
Boston, Massachusetts.




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|| Pranks // Quotes // Revenge // Black coffee // Crystals // Changing her appearance // Flying on broomsticks // Sarcasm // Intelligence // Athleticism // Cigarettes // Gory movies and Spaghetti Westerns // Eye shadow // Swords // Travelling // Dares // Bets // Gambling // Alcohol // Although she is musically inept, jam sessions // Spontaneous dancing and laughter // Defense Against the Dark Arts // Quidditch // Dragons // Criticism // Reality // Potions (not making them, drinking them) // Chinese food // Honesty // Cold weather ||




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|| Tropical climates // People who replace swear words for more censored exclamations // Confinement // Herbology // Cheaters // Prejudice // Whimsicality // Quiet and awkwardness // Some of the people in her house // Her dad // Chewing tobacco // Champagne // Bitches // Nails on a chalkboard // Sappy romance novels // Sappy couples in the common room // Sappy romantic-comedies // Anything sappy // Sporks // Boring people // Hot pink // Bees // Demerits // Her old school // Standardized tests // The place she calls home ||




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Satyrical, Intelligent, Stubborn, Vulnerable.

Natasha Daggerman is the classic "funny girl" of Magnus Grexx. Despite not being a part of the popular crowd, she has a tendency to draw people into her conversations as though she were a living, breathing magnet. She's so risky, sarcastic, down-to-earth and courageous that it surprises people to learn that she's a Vulpes instead of a Ferres. Born a metamorphmagi, she has the ability to change her appearance at will. Natasha doesn't use her power for her own means, but rather for jokes and games. She adores making jests at people and having fake arguments, but of course, the serious lot of the school can't stand her happy-go-lucky demeanor. She can be a little bit crude and immature at times, but she still has a straight enough moral compass to know what's right and wrong. It's been bent over the years, but it still works fine.

Most assume that Tasha's comedic dialogue stems from the fact that she's actually shielding a hypersensitive heart. This is plausible to an extent, as like so many people enrolled in the academy, she too has experienced her fair share of heartbreak and trauma. Because of this, she feels an obligation to shelter over the weak and wounded (as well as close friends and family) in order to protect herself. She hates those who sugarcoat over the atrocities of the world, and would much rather die misanthropic than live with her head forever lost in the clouds. Although she reads about it and lives in it every time she attends her daily classes, she can't deal with fantasy. She's not much of a sensual, romantic person either. However, she can be if someone either persuades her or puts her in the mood. It's true that she is opinionated to a very bold extent, but that doesn't mean Natasha is a complete bigot. She'll change if she is proven wrong. Either that, or if she independently finds evidence that goes against her opinion. And she WILL find evidence...being a Vulpes, she has a knack for finding the little tiny details that nobody else sees.

If there's one thing about Natasha that she's famous for, it's the fact that she never says no to a challenge. Doesn't matter if the challenge is jumping off a bridge into the water below or getting a B+ on her Potions exam - she'll do whatever it takes to prove that she's not a coward. This gets her into a great deal of trouble at times, but it makes her stand out among the other students. Still, there's always a part of her that wants to be smart throughout all situations. There's nothing this loyal, stubborn girl wants more than witticism, originality, and most importantly, acceptance. After all, the last trait is something she's lacked throughout her life.




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Long ago, two women sat face-to-face inside of a bar. They both drank coffee instead of whiskey, and smiled at each other with gleaming white teeth. One of them was ordinary. The other was psychic.

The psychic woman handed the ordinary woman a deck of cards, and told her to shuffle them freely. She did as she was told, and when she was content, she handed the cards back to their owner. The psychic woman spread the cards out on the table, and gave her customer a cheap reading for fifteen dollars. Nothing was all that exciting, and the ordinary woman was just about ready to sling her purse over her shoulder and exit the premises, until the psychic woman commanded her to stop.

"Wait!" she cried, her eyes closed, one hand on her forehead. "I see a light in you! No definite race or color...malleable to the greatest extent. A beacon that will shine from your womb...a beacon that will travel across the sea to its destiny."

The ordinary woman considered the psychic's prophecy to be some sort of false delusion...at least until her pregnancy test came back positive four weeks later. Two weeks later, and she told her husband that he would soon be a father. Eight months after that, and Natasha Nicole Daggerman was born. It was a joyous day...until the baby's skin, hair and eyes wouldn't stop changing colors. Her features...malleable to the greatest extent. That was when the ordinary woman knew that she had some explaining to do.

She clarified to her husband that their daughter's real father was someone who was actually extraordinary...a shapeshifting man, she called him. A man she had been persuaded to follow home from the bar right after the psychic had stated her prediction. A man who was long gone. Except, he wasn't long gone. He lived and breathed in the couple's relationship, and soon enough, his presence brought the husband's and wife's marriage to an abrupt end.

The husband was left with a bastard daughter in the middle of Boston, Massachusetts. He lost everything; his job, his old house, and even his sanity. He took out his loss on his growing girl, who tolerated it almost willingly. He convinced her that all people could change their appearance like she could, except that they kept it a secret. "It's not polite to change in public," he told her. "It's unholy to change who you truly are."

So when she was five years old, the girl vowed to herself that she would never use her powers again. Only in the reflection of her mirror inside her apartment would she be able to see herself change. In order to support herself and her father, she built lemonade stands right next to bus stops and shined shoes for businessmen on the sidewalk. Those attempts at gaining a profit only earned her a couple of dollars a day, which continued to make her father take out his loss on her. As an escape, she went to a normal school with normal kids. She wore baggy clothes because she was poor, which her classmates considered different. It was scary being different, so she developed a happy personality to hide her pessimistic one. The girl wanted to say she had no friends, but of course, that was bullshit. She had cold, grey, useless friends to match everything else in her life...

And then on her eleventh birthday, a letter came to the door.

It came from a place called the Salem Witches' Institute, and urged Natasha to enroll in their next school year, which, from the letter, seemed to be filled with magical shenanigans and descriptions only found in fantasy novels. Her father, in disgust and rampage, finally told his daughter the truth about her identity. An argument ensued, and blood was shed on Natasha's part. Her patriarch promptly stomped to his car, heading to the bar in order to drink his troubles away. That's when she got a phone call that he was being treated at the nearby hospital due to a car crash, and that's when she planned her escape.

Natasha studied at the Salem Witches' Institute for many years, but not enough years to graduate. You see, in the spirit of the horrible luck she had experienced throughout the majority of her life, she was expelled from the school for apparently "breaking the peace", which was a total lie. The fact of the matter was that she was different, and it was because of her difference that she made many enemies, a majority of whom wanted to frame her for a crime she had never committed.

Lost and full of emptiness, Natasha wandered the streets of Salem, hesitant to return home. It was after a long night spent in an alleyway that she received an invitation to enroll at Magnus Grexx School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A school beyond the sea, it beckoned her to not give up hope and complete her wizarding world education. With gratitude and a gleam in her eyes, she accepted, and now Natasha spends her days smiling and laughing on the island campus, training hard to become an auror...her dream job.






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Do you know much about the Harry Potter Universe?:
Why yes, I do. I will admit, I have only read up to Goblet of Fire, but I have seen all the movies and possess a Pottermore account. I also read The Tales of Beedle the Bard so religiously, that as soon as I have kids, those little fables will be their bedtime stories every night. Every night.

How often do you get online?:
Often. It's not like I'm addicted to this site or anything... *shifty eyes*

How often can we expect you to be able to post?:
Every other day at least. It all depends on who posts, when they post, etc.

Password:
Copper Cauldrons! :)

So begins...

Natasha Daggerman's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Robert McCullough Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Teddy Mooreland Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood Character Portrait: HeadMaster Character Portrait: Zoe DiLaurentis
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Bobby Burkinson, The boy who had it all. He was everything a luscious pureblood family would want. To achieve, a feeling of accomplishment. To rule, a feeling of entitlement. To feed, the crave of hunger. These things are what made him who he aspired to be in the wizarding world. "Why would they leave me? Why would they put me away as if I was useless? Imperfect? a complete and utter nothing.." His thoughts reconciled. The air was filled with magic, chocolate cards and flavored beans being stepped on at the second, and the smell, like strawberries in the summer. He could just taste the sweet treat on his tongue, if only.

Bobby grabbed his luggage, followed by tugging lightly on his pet owl Pola."Oh come on you dumb twig! I didn't spend my last galleons on you for this!" He mumbled a slight curse under his breath entering the cruise as he walked forward, entering what appeared to be simply magnificent."Holy.." His mouth dropped in awe, nodding to himself in secret of the compartment room. He sat his luggage down, cracking his neck with a short sigh as he crossed his leg over the other.

"Now..if only I had a little mudblood to keep me company." He chuckled to himself, watching as fellow students passed by into there rooms. Bobby would have three others join him, and he wasn't one for a great conversation about simply anything so to himself, he was all that'd be needed. He pulled out his wand sitting it on the table next to him, slouching in his seat as he stared at the pouring rain, dripping and dropping against the hard steel glass. "It'll break..eventually." His snickering became depressing and his urgency to walk in such a close space became disturbing.

His ramblings came to a holt, as the woman opened the door. "Anything off the trolley dear?" He responded hastily, grinning with a slick smile that could break a mirror, shutting the door fast in the poor woman's face."I don't need anything from the fowl likes of her."He thought to himself in delight. Bobby was on the verge of being completely out of it. He was a mental nutcase that was entrapped inside, waiting to talk to someone other than himself. With no time needed he exited, walking to the back where a small crowd of student's were.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson
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The lighthearted air of the dock and the students that walked upon it was more potent than the ecstasy of the black waves crashing powerfully against the towering wooden ship. Today was a joyous occasion, as summer vacation was finally over, and another wonderful year at Magnus Grexx was about to unfold. For Natasha Daggerman, this time was especially significant, as she would finally be returning to the magical place that she regarded as her one true home.

Today, Natasha's hair was pigmented a white-grey hue; sterling silver to call the color something. Her eyes were a light purple, and a slender arrow tattoo cascaded down her right forearm. A dark brown trenchcoat draped itself over her thin body, almost touching the wooden planks of the dock hidden underneath her battered hiking boots. The metamorphmagi wanted her appearance to blend in with the dark elements surrounding her, but with her well-known reputation and utterly recognizable face, her efforts were fruitless. She stuck out like a bright lighthouse in the thick of night, but with the happy expressions people gave her, she didn't really mind.

Leather suitcase in one hand, broomstick in the other, Natasha boarded the ship. It was her last year at the academy, so she tried to soak in as much of the boat's majestic atmosphere as she could. Unfortunately, the fact of the matter remained that she was used to its grand architecture, as she had already boarded the ship three times before. Still, the feeling of magic was so potent, that it gave a tingling sensation of excitement inside her alabaster skin that she had never felt before. This year was bound to be a good one.

Suddenly, the booming sound of a slamming door filled the air. An old lady in front of her shrieked, her stubby arms flailing in the air. The force of the door had barely scraped her face off. The golden carriage of multi-colored sweets beside her almost toppled over due to the kinetic energy, but Natasha was able to catch it before it reached the floor.

The elderly woman puffed her chest out angrily, and grumbled, musing to herself as she furiously pushed the cart in front of her. "Snotty kids these days..." Natasha could hear her mutter as she stirred by, heading to another compartment. What had just happened? Whatever it was, it wasn't something rather nice. The Vulpes's curiosity sparked to life, and almost instantly, she formulated a plan of sweet revenge.

If this lady wasn't going to stick up for herself against this bratty student, than Natasha would. She relaxed the muscles in her face, letting the magic inside of her take its course. She could feel creases and tender spots appear around her eyes and cheeks. The seventeen-year-old giggled in delight as she took out her compact mirror from her pocket, admiring just how accurately she had recreated the facial features of the old woman upon her own.

Now it was time to teach this kid a lesson. She boldly opened the door, revealing her new hair and face but being careful as to hide the rest of her body.

"Young man, I ought to tell the headmaster of this disgusting case of teenage angst!" she scolded Bobby Burkinson in her best old lady voice. To be frank, she wasn't very surprised to see him sitting there. "As soon as we get to the school, ten points will be deducted from Arietem. In fact..."

She pulled a bunch of Bertie Bott's beans out of her pocket, (without any box to encase them), and chucked the tiny candies at the boy, aiming for his mouth. "There's some jelly beans to wash down your bad behavior! They're dirt flavored...a metaphor for your insufferable attitude."

Natasha snickered in her mind. Behind her, she could hear some female students snickering as well.

"Well, I must be off. GOOD DAY SIR."

She slammed the door with the same force Bobby had used before, and reset her face back to its normal form. Underclassman crowded around her, but instead of talking to them, she trotted up the stairs to the quarterdeck, determined to find a compartment not contaminated with Pureblooded hot-heads...

And of course, the joint was crowded. She pushed her way past the underclassmen until she found a familiar face. Commanding the lot of confused students was the Cervus Head Boy, The Bach himself.

"Waylon! My favorite country bumpkin!" she approached him. "How was your summer? Well, never mind, we'll talk about it when we're in our compartment far away from this riot. We are sitting in the same compartment, riiiiiiight?"

She gave him a cheesy smile and a wink, remaining still as she awaited his response.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera
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Rose couldn't believe she found herself boarding the ship for the third time. Though the crowd seemed to be a whole lot bigger than she remembered. The petite female sighed as she continued to drag her suitcase behind her with her caged owl, Ginger in her left hand. Ginger had been one of her best friends ever since she had gotten her. For the longest time she believed Ginger was the only one who could understand her. As much as she loved living with her foster parents, they didn't understand. They were muggles. They had no idea what it was like being a witch, going to Magnus Grexx, they had no idea what was going on in Rose's life anymore. As much as she tried to explain things to them, it just never seemed to help them understand.

Times when she wanted to talk about her experiences at Magnus just made her want to be able to know her birth parents even more. Though once she realized that her parents died in a house fire and she was the only one who survived, she just couldn't seem to understand why that had happened. Why was she the only one? Rose needed her parents in her life, she needed someone she could relate to.

Rose couldn't wait to look around for Natasha. She was the only one from Vulpes house she was really looking forward to seeing. If it weren't for Natasha, she probably wouldn't have even gotten through the previous year. The two of them seemed to get along pretty well, though she wasn't too sure on if she would consider Natasha as any more than just a friend. Even calling her her best friend was pretty far-fetch in Rose's opinion.

Last year wasn't the best year for her. Many people seemed to pick on her and bully her just because she was a mudblood and with how small Rose was, she wasn't all that well with sticking up for herself. She also had a tendency to bite her tongue when she had a good few choice words to say, but she never wanted to cause any problems.

Finally she had made it to the quarterdeck and spotted Natasha, speaking to Waylon. Rose never really got much of a chance to get to know the male, but she never found herself having any problems with him. So she considered him to be a decent guy. She smiled once she found herself accompanying the two of them and spoke. "Hey Natasha, Waylon," she started as she glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she added as she set her suitcase and owl cage down beside her.

Rose just couldn't wait to get off this ship. She was never a big fan of crowds...or being on a ship for that matter. She always seemed to get a bad case of seasickness, a couple times she even ended up puking over the edge of the ship. Rose just hoped that wouldn't happen to her this year. That was the last thing she needed to happen to get everyone drawing their attention to none other than herself.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera
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His frigid fingers were tightly intertwined as he stood among the bustling crowd of students that were making their way onto the grandiose ship, some of them pushing past him without giving him so much as a second glance while others, particularly third year girls, flashed him small, flirty smiles. He was a foot taller than the majority of the students around him so he had a pretty good view of the variety of faces that were coming and going, and whenever his green eyes met someone else’s he gave them a polite, timid smile.

The freckled boy was given the honor of being a Prefect in his final year at Magnus Grexx; this had been his dream since the start of his first year. At the moment he was doing a fairly good job performing his duties, considering that all he had to do was direct people to various locations and sound kind while doing it. His voice was soft and his eyes were warm; he was trying.

Stephen Schwarz had arrived early as usual, and after depositing his items in his quarters he had some time to simply stroll around the ship and take in the majestic architecture for the second-to-last time. He knew that a lot of people were weary of the journey across the water for a variety of reasons, but Stephen was one of the few individuals who didn't put much thought to it. This wasn’t to say that marine voyages were his favourite thing in the world, but often times when he was on the ship he forgot he was even there and not on land.

It suddenly dawned on him that he probably looked very awkward just standing there, reminiscent of a statue, so after adjusting his black, thick-framed spectacles with his index finger and straightening out his pine green sweater vest, he decided to patrol the area. With his luck he would have to get in the middle of some sort of scuffle to stop it and probably get socked in the nose much like he did the previous year, but he pushed the thought aside. More than anything he wanted to flee back into the comfort of his quarters and pull out one of the many leather-bound novels he brought with him, but he knew it would be a while before it was just him and a book. He also remembered that he was sharing the space with Abraham Delavergne, and he wasn’t too keen on seeing the wanker’s smug smile or hearing his obnoxious west coast drawl.

Not to say that there was any obvious animosity between the two boys, but secretly Stephen sometimes wished that somebody would jinx Abraham’s broom during a Quidditch game and gravity would then take effect.



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Abraham hadn’t been on the ship for more than an hour and he already had a migraine that was threatening to make his head spontaneously combust. It wasn’t even the ship itself as much as it was the loud, obnoxious voices and laughter of the first and second years. For some reason they couldn’t figure out how to use their inside voices.

He had haphazardly thrown his belongings down in his quarters and was about to leave when Stephen ‘I-look-like-I’m-sixty’ Schwarz had wandered inside. Though there wasn’t a nasty exchange of words between the two, the tension was still palpable and Abraham could not get out of there fast enough.

Okay, so perhaps he was the one that started the ‘Stephen Hawking’ name calling during first year. But by the time Stephen found out about it, it was too late to figure out who started it. In all honesty, the kid brought it onto himself. At least, that's what Abraham told himself to cover up the fact that he did have some sort of regret brewing inside of him.

Abraham shook his head at the thought as he casually made his way out from below and on deck. The air was coated in the sweet, delightful smell of sea salt; he could feel the humidity settle in his hair and against his face. It was hard to believe that this was the last time he would be riding this ship to Magnus Grexx; it didn’t feel RIGHT. To say that the thought was saddening was a complete understatement. Truth be told, he hadn't thought much about what he would do after he finished his education at the school. Of course, his father wanted Abraham to follow in his footsteps and be a fine professor at Beauxbatons, but Abraham just knew that wasn't something he would ever end up doing if his life depended on it. He lived for Quidditch.

After scanning the crowd of faces, he saw Waylon from a distance and began heading over, his hands stuffed in his front jeans pockets. "Hello," he mused once he was close enough, then smiled a small smile at the boy and glanced at the two girls who were standing next to him. His dark brown eyes met the brunette girl's eyes and his lips curled upwards into a half-smile-half-smirk toward her as well.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Teddy Mooreland
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Homesickness had already hit long ago, on the long road trip that had brought her here to this very moment. Standing with her arms crossed in the sea of swarming students. Body tucked in tightly to prevent any accidental touch between her and those who went by her - like a ghost, nobody stops to actually see her. Every year is the same, no matter how much Nora loves Magnus Grexx she always feels so alone. She finally begins moving, wading through the crowd carefully. She doesn't want to draw much attention to herself just yet.

She spots a few students she knows, not personally of course but their faces are ones she has seen quite a few times. She sees Natasha and Rose among the little crowd and raises her hand to wave, but drops her hand when she spots Abraham Delavergne there among them. She doesn't know him at all, but knows that hes Arietem and the majority of her encounters with members of that house haven't ended very well. Instead she smiles politely and continues on her way, feeling more self-conscious than ever before.




The compartment she is in is empty, Nora is glad for it. She tucks herself into one of the seats. Content with staying in that position no matter what. The rocking motion of the ship has already began to make her feel nauseous. Nora wants nothing more than to sleep for the duration of the trip but the last time she tried to do that she woke up with a pounding headache and felt sick for days afterwards. Instead she digs in the small bag that she carried around with her, she grabs her copy of 'a history of magic' and begins reading where she left off. Even though she has already read this book about a million times since buying it she still enjoys it greatly.

'Mreeeoooww' Grumps angry meow alerts her to the fact that she hasn't let him out of his carrier yet.

The poor cat is probably itching to stretch his legs. She reaches over to flick open the latch, watching him dart out as if he thinks she will close the door on him before he can escape his prison. He meows again as he hops into her lap, his claws poking the skin of her leg. She winces and strokes a calming hand over his fluffed up white fur.

"Silly cat," She says to him. He relaxes finally, laying still in her lap. The vibration of his purring almost soothing as she goes back to reading her book and awaiting the long journey to end.









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For all of his usual complaints Teddy has never been more happy than he is right in this moment. Unlike most he actually enjoys the trip to Magnus Grexx. Even the rocking of the ship as it hits wave isn't enough to dash his mood. He noticed that very few students had made their way into their quarters yet, so he stuck around for a while chatting with various students until the weight of his backs became far too heavy and Cassiopeia began to flutter her wings in annoyance. He quickly deposits his belongings where he will be spending the duration of this trip and returns top-side to continue socializing with the other students.

Most of the first years are looking around in wonder, its easy to tell them apart by the way they seem overly excited. He remembers being that way in his first year as well. Back then he had been a chubby boy who got on every ones nerves within a few minutes. He had made very few friends during that time, and hadn't kept many of them over the years. Teddy only began to see an influx in the amount of friends he was gaining during his third year, when his over all attitude began to calm down a little.

While walking around he spots Nora Gray, looking exactly as she does every other time he sees her. Utterly uncomfortable and painfully shy. Teddy feels pity for the girl, who can't even get up the courage to talk to her peers. He doesn't approach her, figuring his presence would only make her even more uncomfortable. Instead he walks past her, heading deeper into the throng of students.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Teddy Mooreland Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Stephen smiled slightly as he prowled through the ship. It was strange how some people just took a magical ship for granted due to repeated exposure to it. Did anyone wonder what spells were worked into this living piece of history? The sheer amount of people who took the same ship to the same destination over and over again for hundreds of years? Really, it seemed that people rarely saw beyond their own nose.

Speaking of people who saw little beyond themselves, he heard the predictable snottiness of Bobby Parkinson and the reaction it elicited in those around him. Sure enough, a group of people began to gather together in a compartment a significant distance from said fool. He smiled politely at the gathered throng before raising an eyebrow at the person he recognized as Natasha. He always liked the girl. She was downright pleasant to be around and attractive no matter how much she changed her appearance. Her abilities were fascinating. He envied her, truthfully. To control a type of magic so rare was something money or influence could never buy. Nor could hard work, he found to his disappointment.

"Sterling silver today, Natasha? You wear it well, as always" he stated before nodding politely at the others. There were some he knew better than others, but there was no reason not to be polite. Stephen pride himself on rarely ever being rude. Spotting Waylon, he grinned.

"Ah, Waylon. Has the Muggle Rite re-instituted the Latin Liturgy yet?" he asked, focusing on one of his favorite topics. Latin was the language of history and scholarship. It was still taught in many pure-blooded households and Stephen thought that Magnus Grexx should make the class mandatory. Why the Muggle Catholics had mostly abandoned the language for Holy Mass, he could not fathom.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Gideon Caulfield Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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"Hey Natasha, Waylon," said a meek little voice as quiet as the subtle sounds of the waves below the ship. A girl with deep brown hair and large rosy lips approached, placing her suitcase and caged owl down onto the wooden ground. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something."

Natasha gave her a gentle smile, her irises unconsciously blossoming into a friendly shade of blue. "You're not interrupting anything, Rose," she said, enveloping her arms around the tiny girl. Rose was one of those people who could do absolutely nothing wrong no matter how hard she tried. A sister Vulpes, she was somewhat shy, but far from insensitive. Unfortunately, the arrogant pricks who made blood purity their religion considered her an anomaly, as she was a muggle-born witch, and a target to their abuse. Still, she wasn't alone, because whenever those troublemakers talked about Rose behind her back, Natasha was always there to stick up for her.

It was while she was hugging Rose that the metamorphmagi spotted another familiar face. Wavy blonde hair, chiseled features, broad body and stubbly chin. None other than the famous Abraham Delavergne himself. An Arietem, yes, but one of the better ones.

His hands stuffed in his jean pockets, the Quidditch captain gazed at Natasha, Waylon and Rose with inviting eyes. "Hello," he greeted the three of them once he was in close proximity. He stared at the Cervus head boy for a second, and then his eyes trailed to Rose, where they stayed put. While his mouth curled up into a smirk and awkward silence filled the air, Natasha furrowed her brows, a sardonic scoff escaping her lips.

"Hello? Just hello???" she teased, "Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition."

She wrapped her arms around him as well, giving a low chuckle in her normal sultry tone. She didn't talk to him much, or at least she didn't think she did. Regardless, he was a Quidditch player and so was she, and the upcoming games they would play this season would be their last. If a hug wasn't appropriate now, then it would never be in the days to come.

Her eyes flickered to Waylon, Rose, and Abraham respectively. "I want to see you all in my compartment later," she said, "the one that I'm going to go find right now before the boat starts setting sail. I'll be back."

But just before she could leave the semi-circle, Stephen Notwood stepped in front of her.

"Sterling silver today, Natasha? You wear it well, as always" he said. She didn't talk to him much, but that still didn't give her an excuse not to smile at him. She placed one hand in her pocket and used the other to tuck a loose strand of white-grey hair behind her cute little ear.

"Thank you," she grinned, scurrying past him. She had mixed opinions about Stephen Notwood, but couldn't help beaming at his compliment. After all, boys rarely gave her praise for her appearance...no matter how much it changed. For girls it was a different story, but the opposite sex was a little bit more difficult to impress.

On her search to find an empty cabin, she saw another boy named Stephen, a classmate she knew somewhat better than the last. He was a Ferres, a straight-A student, and the most mysterious male-human-person that Natasha Daggerman had ever seen in her entire life. What was it about Stephen Schwarz that fascinated her? Was it his introverted nature? His brilliant mind? The fact that his name was ironically similar in sound to that of a famous Broadway composer?

It was all of that, and one other thing. Every time she gazed upon him, he looked like a perfect pane of glass; fragile, yet shimmering in the light. She kept admitting to herself that she wasn't attracted to him, but by god, was he beautiful. Not in a conventional sense, but in an abstract one. Natasha found no difficulty in starting a conversation with anyone, but with Stephen...well, that was a challenge. What she wouldn't give to get to know him. She would talk to him this year. Or perhaps she would dare herself to. Even if she did, she doubted the task would be possible.




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"Sorry, miss" hummed a husky voice located on the lower deck of the ship. Jet-black hair slicked back behind him, a cleft chin littered with stubble, and a lean figure; these were the features of the infamous Gideon Caulfield. The seventh-year student with a task always on his mind. A teenager with a mind more mature than his physical appearance.

He slithered through the cruise ship, opening every single compartment door, promptly slamming them shut once he failed to find the person he was looking for. He was causing a commotion amongst the people sitting silently in their quarters, but then again, when wasn't he causing a commotion?

He opened another door, this time smirking devilishly as he found Bobby Burkinson quietly resting by his lonesome. This boy was his target.

"Hello there, fellow Arietem," Gideon spoke, entering the small space and gingerly closing the door behind him. He took a seat opposite the sixteen-year-old, gazing at him like a predator does prey. "Word's spreading around like wildfire that one of the trolley ladies told you off for slamming a door in her face. Don't worry, I'm well aware of the real truth, as I have my methods," he chuckled curtly, "but your behavior has speculated me to believe that your presence would be greatly needed in a private group that I have been tasked with promoting..."

He pulled out a parcel of paper and, with his thorny black wand, used a telekinetic-like spell to make a feather quill float towards the boy in front of him. He handed Bobby the paper, which, in capital letters, had the words Junior Death Eaters scribbled up at the top. There were two names below it - Aleksander Krumm, and Gideon Caulfield.

"Now, I'm not your mother or anything, but I'd just like to tell you why it would be awfully profitable for a person of your ambition to enroll in this." He crossed his legs, every part of his body attaining a relaxed, enticing quality. "The Death Eaters, or the Knights of Walpurgis as they were initially called, was a prominent English organization that appeared throughout the 70's and 90's. Their goal was to spread the goodness of pureblood supremacy and eradicate the filth that was muggles and mudbloods. And they succeeded to an extent, but eventually failed at the hands of a certain Harry Potter and his loyal disciples."

His eyes darted around the room for a while, but eventually chained themselves back to Bobby's. "Now, I'm not asking you to join an organization. I'm asking you to join a group that will promote the message of the original Death Eaters, but in a much more modern, enthusiastic, and well..." he glumly exhaled, "understandable way. You see, the original Death Eaters scared the public in order to promote their message. With their force, they encouraged the public to believe that they were a radical terrorist group, which in reality was so far from the truth, that Merlin himself was rolling in his grave. They were missionaries, not monsters..."

He leaned in closer to Bobby.

"Listen...I, as well as others you'd surely love to meet, want potential for this group. You should consider it an absolute honor to be briefed about this in the first place. After all, with your talent, Bobby Burkinson, we could definitely use you. Ask me what you'd be getting in return, and we'll be in business, my friend," he smirked.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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“Break it up, y'all. Time to get back down below and stop worryin'...” Waylon stopped. The crowd was getting a little restless and fierce, and overly loud for his control. Waylon never had the inclination to raise his voice more than usual – his voice was deep and it was always slightly painful to get louder. Nevertheless, it was his responsibility. He saw the Burkinson boy walk up, smug and alone as usual. The only reason Waylon even bothered knowing the boy's name was that he was actually quite cute.
Of course, however, trouble always seemed to come to Waylon, first. Fortunately, this time the trouble was quite pleasant. None other than the endearing Natasha Daggerman, loveliest lady of House Vulpes – and a real darling. Waylon had always been a little sweet on the redhead, and although she was smiley and fun with everyone, he always felt safe to be around her.
"Waylon! My favorite country bumpkin!" she approached him. "How was your summer? Well, never mind, we'll talk about it when we're in our compartment far away from this riot. We are sitting in the same compartment, riiiiiiight?" Waylon's face, turning to see the Vulpes girl, was caught in both shock (at being called a country bumpkin) and joy at finally hearing a friendly voice.
“Now, now! Didn't your mama never tell y'all not to call people names, Natasha?” He raised his nose up at her, crossing his arms, in mock judgement. But his face lacked seriousness – Natasha always commanded a smile across his face.
”My summer was fantastic. A few of the cows were late in labor, but we had another seven calves by July. It was great! One of them was even a bull! Y'all should'a seen it.” Waylon's drawl was always thicker when he got back from Summer, but he always wondered why people giggled (especially Natasha) when he said “y'all.” ”And, of course we're sharing the same compartment! I'm offended you would even question that! Of course, it all depends on when and if I can get everyone in their compartments and figure out what's causing this damned block. God willing and the creek don't rise. Or in this case, er... the ocean.”
"Hey Natasha, Waylon," Rose greeted them, glancing between the two. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she said. She set her suitcase and owl cage down beside her. Rose was a cute girl – and a very smart one at that. But they weren't overly close, understandably so.
”No, of course not, Rose. We were just catching up – ya know, exchanging the obligatory insults and all that. How are you and Ginger?” Waylon always loved to talk about other people's pets – especially the owls. He waited for Rose's response, and shortly after he found himself smiling as the very handsome Abraham Delavergne approached the threesome.
Waylon always had a love/respect/hate thing for Abraham. In terms of hate, Abraham was a natural leader, charming and confident; Waylon was timid, affectionate and... servicing. As prefect, he “had” authority, but the power dynamic between them was always up in the air. In terms of respect, Waylon was a very capable prefect and always saw his own role as that of servant of his peers. Therefore, he could always respect Abraham when the other boy could rile up a crowd and dictate social policy. And in terms of everything else... well, Waylon had spent many hours in the confessional about the various thoughts he had about Abraham. Of course, none of that mattered because no one cared and nobody was interested in Waylon anyway.
"Hello? Just hello???" Natasha teased the blond, "Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition." Of course Natasha would follow up with a hug! Natasha always followed up with a hug. As to her lack of hugging him, he would simply guilt trip her later for an even better hug. Her eyes flickered to Waylon, Rose, and Abraham respectively. "I want to see you all in my compartment later," she said, "the one that I'm going to go find right now before the boat starts setting sail. I'll be back." Waylon gently nodded.
”Natasha is right, though.” Waylon smiled big towards Abraham. It wasn't so much that they were close. Waylon wasn't even sure if Abraham even saw him as a friend. Waylon Willard Wolfsbach, however, is a master of goofy smiles and enthusiasm for what little bit of warmth he got. ”I was going to say: seven years with us weirdos and all you have to offer is a 'hello'? Well I'll be darned, what in the Sam Hill is that? I would force a hug onto you, as well, but ya know. Never give a wasp a honeycomb!”
Stephen Notwood stopped Natasha as she stepped away, a conversation a bit too quiet for the rest of the group. But nevertheless, Natasha smiled even larger, responded and continued. Notwood then turned to the rest.
"Ah, Waylon. Has the Muggle Rite re-instituted the Latin Liturgy yet?" he asked Waylon, focusing on one of their mutually favorite topics. Latin, though the language of the Ancient Romans, was carried on by the Catholic Church for almost two millenia. Latin was gradually dropped in the 1960's in the Second Vatican Council. Catholic Latin – ecclesiastical or church latin, as it is known- differs slightly from Classical Latin, biggest difference being in the pronunciation of certain consonants. Waylon was well-read in church latin, coming from a longline of traditionalist Catholics; this was often a point of contention in some classes. When the professors pronounced latin spells and potions in Classical Latin, Waylon's immediate response was to stubbornly correct them in Church Latin. It was perhaps his most obnoxious trait in his public life.
Stephen Notwood liked to bring up this very same topic everytime he saw Waylon after a long absence. Perhaps it was just Notwood's inner troll, or a genuine interest, but Waylon took the bait everytime. ”Not quite, yet,” the half-blood replied, ”oh, but we're still holding our breaths. My uncle, the monsignor back home, says all the Masses in Latin under dispensation from our bishop. Some of my kinfolk refused to go to Mass until that dispensation was enforced. 'Course, there is definitely room for English... when German or Latin doesn't suffice.”.
The Ferre Prefect, the other Stephen, inched close enough to the group for Waylon to beckon him. Perhaps it was the germanic surname or the freckles or the cute glasses – or just everything in general- but Waylon was extremely excited to have Stephen Schwarz on the prefect team. Responsible, intelligent and kind'a adorable, he was a perfect colleague. ”Hey Schwarz, I don't mean to bother you. I'm having difficulty with this crowd. Can you see if you can get them orderly, again? If not, we might have to find a professor.” Having addressed the other prefect, he gave him an innocent wink and shrunk into a submissive smile.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Abraham pulled his gaze away from the petite brunette just in time to hear Natasha’s playfully scolding voice, directed towards him. “Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition!”

He couldn’t help but laugh as the girl hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around her in return. “I knew it would set you off! How are you, how is everyone?” His eyes scanned the small group they’ve now formed, and after pulling away from Natasha he listened as she instructed all of them to meet her in her compartment later.

After she began walking away he turned his attention to Waylon, and his lips immediately curled up into a small smile as he listened to the western boy scold him as well. “Natasha is right,” he began, “I was going to say: seven years with us weirdos and all you have to offer is a ‘hello’? Well I’ll be darned, what in the Sam Hill is that? I would force a hug onto you as well, but ya know. Never give a wasp a honeycomb.”

His little speech made Abraham burst out into laughter over again, but then again whenever he was around the Waylon all he could do was laugh and smile. Hell, the Prefect had the ability to brighten Abraham's day by just simply talking. “Oh come here,” he replied, then proceeded to pull Waylon into a quick hug. He was slightly taller than the dark haired Cervus Prefect, and before Waylon even had a chance to properly hug him back Abraham pulled away and looked at him with that same casual expression he often wore.

He was fairly sure that it was just a case of paranoia, but at times he could swear that people caught on to the fact that Abraham did not have a preference for women. But how could they? Hell, he faked it so well that sometimes he fooled even himself. Well, almost.

Quite frankly he wasn't sure what he was so afraid of. So what if people knew? What was the worst that could happen? Then again he was still trying to come to terms with that fact girls didn't do anything for him, so to say, which was only mildly disappointing. Looking at Waylon now, however, he had to admit that the boy was a sight for sore eyes, to say the least. He could probably get anything he wanted with that smile, and not to mention that country twang.

The sudden, unwelcome thought made Abraham snap right back to reality as he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, and after mentally cursing himself he ran a hand through his hair casually then stared off at nothing. He jumped a little when Stephen ‘Not-the-nerd-one’ Notwood came up behind him and began blabbering about something to Waylon. He noticed the girl next to Waylon still wasn’t saying much, so he offered to start conversation. “Not feeling sea sick, are you?” he asked her with a friendly smile plastered to his lips.



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After patrolling the ship and (thankfully) not finding any misbehavior to reprimand, Stephen began making his way out to the deck. It was while he was making his way back the way he came that he walked past Natasha Daggerman, who looked just as radiant as the last time he saw her, before summer began. For a moment he had the urge to say something, maybe mutter a ‘Hello, nice to see you’ or even a ‘Good afternoon’, but he didn’t have the strength to. Instead he chose to stop for a moment and glance back, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. Then he remembered that with the opportunity to socialize also came the opportunity to get shut down, and the last thing he wanted was to be blown off by the endearing Metamorphmagi.

They were due to set sail shortly, but before heading back to his quarters he knew that he would have to go up on deck to patrol just one more time and try to direct the students to where they were supposed to be.

He was so immersed with his inner babbling that he barely heard his name being called, and he turned to see the familiar, friendly face of Waylon Wolfsbach. “Hey Schwarz, I don’t mean to bother you. I’m having difficulty with this crowd. Can you see if you can get them orderly, again? If not, we might have to find a professor.”

Stephen raised his lips in his usual timid smile and opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he saw Abraham standing there as well his whole face visibly dropped. However, it was too late to walk away seeing as he already made eye contact with Waylon and he couldn’t just pretend that he didn’t hear him. “We should probably tell everyone to head to their quarters, it’s almost time,” he chose to say as he hesitantly walked over. Coming to stand next to Abraham, he pulled his pocket watch out, popped it open and showed Waylon the time. From the corner of his eye he saw Abraham glance at him, and he looked up as well to meet the blonde’s brown eyes. Instead of the usual comment he would receive from Abraham he simply watched as the Quidditch player raised an eyebrow at him then looked away.

After returning the pocket watch to its rightful place, Stephen attempted to say something else when a five-foot-something first year ran right into him, almost knocking him off his feet. More surprising than the fact that someone can be so blind was the fact that Abraham reached out and steadied him, then turned so that he could look back at the first year with a powerful glare burned onto his face. “YOU HAVE EYES FOR A REASON, so get your head out of your ass and use them.” Abraham’s voice alone was enough to send someone running for the hills, but as soon as the first year caught a glimpse of his furious eyes he scurried off without so much as a glance back.

The outburst made Stephen raise his eyebrows, and he could only imagine the look of surprise on his own face. He readjusted his spectacles much like he did in awkward social situations and cleared his throat. “…Thank you, Abraham…for that lovely, erm...yeah.”

He wanted to crawl into a hole and curl up into the fetal position then and there.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Fortunately, Waylon's attempts at persuading the underclassmen to swiftly head to their cabins had been a success. Every compartment throughout the hall was crowded with kids. Even the fifth and sixth years, as rowdy and slack to the rules as the soon-to-be-graduating seventh years, were sitting down in their seats. Unfortunately for Natasha, that meant she couldn't find a seat of her own.

"Excuse me, is this compartment full?" she asked a group of students who she recognized as fourth years.

One of them curtly rolled his eyes at her. "Piss off, mudblood!" he yelled, swatting her away like a fly. She glared at him, eyes tightly furrowed. "Yeesh, okay then...I will..."

Natasha was not a mudblood. In fact, she was a halfblood. Her parents were both muggles yes, but she had been born out of wedlock. The man her mother had met on that night her father would never forget...that man was a metamorphmagi himself. However, Natasha could never reach that part of the story before judgmental Arietems quickly pointed their fingers at her.

Natasha was a bastard, and it seemed as though her father, as well as the world around her, would never let her forget that. It only made her powers all the more agonizing to use...

Something gleamed on the floor below. The seventeen-year-old looked down, finding a lone newspaper with moving pictures of politicians and celebrities. Clearly, someone had lost it. She picked it up, attempting to find its owner, but the front page struck her fancy...

|{ Dementor attacks plagued the city of Annapolis, Maryland, and other parts of the East Coast said investigators yesterday. "We've never had an outbreak this bad before," claimed 24-year-old auror, Phyllis Dragonfyre. "It was a nightmare trying to drive them away." Generally, dementors do not attack the general public, let alone muggles. However, this case seemed to be different. "We had to do a giant wipe on all of them (muggles), and it wasn't fun in the slightest. Plus, I'm pretty sure one of 'em might have even gotten kissed..." said renowned auror Ted Spittleson. The situation is currently under investigation by members of the Auror Office, as well as the Ministry of Magic. Dementors are soul-sucking creatures used before 1998 to prevent unwanted fugitives from escaping Azkaban prison. However, once Kingsley Shacklebolt was made Minister of Magic, the government use of dementors was revoked. Their whereabouts are currently unknown, however, ministry members fear that more attacks like these could happen again in the future... }|

Natasha shuddered. She had never come face-to-face with a dementor, let alone heard of one before, but she hoped that none of them would be making a surprise visit at Magnus Grexx. Realizing that she still needed to look for a free cabin, the girl opened the first door to her left, and smiled once she saw Nora Gray's ski-sloped nose hidden inside a book.

"Hey Nora," she greeted, "would you mind if I, as well as four or five other friends of mine, were to share this cabin with you?"

Just then, a jolting force rumbling throughout the floor made her lose her balance. She caught herself on the door frame, but Natasha could feel an invisible bead of sweat drip down her forehead once she realized that the ship was starting to set sail.

"Also, uh...it's kinda sorta urgent." she added as an afterthought.

"Hey Tasha!" said a cheery Vulpes girl Natasha recognized as a third year, "There's a compartment open right behind you!"

"Oh thank Merlin..." she breathed with relief, turning around and placing her broom and luggage in the large cabin behind her. She faced Nora again, still smiling. "It looks like we're neighbors, then! You can join the rest of us if you'd like...I'm sure there will still be room, and I mean, in my opinion, it beats being alone for however many hours we're on this trip...but y'know... that's just me." Natasha gave a chuckle and winked at the reserved fifth year. "See you around..."

In seconds, she was back at the quarterdeck. It was a bit shaky because the whole vessel was moving, but it was nothing a person would lose balance over. "Found a compartment. It's a rather big one, so we have to hurry before it's taken." she said to the group, as well as Stephen Schwarz, who seemed to be a new addition to the semi-circle.

"Follow me."

With that, Natasha sprinted down the stairs. Her hair, which started to produce streaks of light blonde pigment, flapped wildly in the wind as she led the group, and in a good minute or so, Natasha took a seat in the cabin, one leg crossed charismatically over the other. She grinned once she realized that her seat was the closest to the window. In delight and calm disposition, she waited for the others to arrive.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera
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"You're not interrupting anything, Rose," the petite brunette smiled and wrapped her arms around Natasha, returning the hug that she was honestly needing ever since she left home. Here lately home life wasn't all that great. As she grew more and more interested and knowledgeable about her witch side of her, her parents seemed to slowly begin pulling away from her; as if they were terrified of her. Though she honestly had not clue why that was because Rose couldn't even hurt a fly, yet alone her own family.

"Hello," a familiar voice stated from behind her while she was still enveloped into Natasha's arms. Once the hug ended she turned her attention towards the male, finding a blonde with gorgeous hair that she secretly always wanted to run her fingers through, though she would never admit that to anyone, not even herself most of the time. When their eyes locked for a couple moments, she felt her heart beat speed just a small bit. Rose was never one to fawn over anyone, no matter how attractive they were, but for some reason every time Abraham happened to be around, she would just grow a bit quiet. She always had a feeling there was something about Abraham she hadn't known because of the way he always seemed to act around Waylon. Though the thought just made her feel a little upset. But she just shrugged it off and returned the soft smile back at the male who stood almost a foot taller than herself.

"Hello? Just hello??? Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition." Rose just chuckled softly at her comment. Of course Natasha would have something to say. There was never a moment that she remembered when Natasha never had a comeback to anything. That was one thing she always envied about Natasha among other things. Though she never allowed this to mess with their friendship. Natasha was really the only friend she had at Magnus Grexx and if it weren't for her being in her life, she probably would be much more induced by loneliness that she already was.

"I want to see you all in my compartment later, the one that I'm going to go find right now before the boat starts setting sail. I'll be back." Rose just nodded her head at the redhead's words and watched as she began to make her way through the bustling crowd to look for a compartment, leaving her alone with the guys. Rose always seemed to feel a bit uncomfortable around attractive guys by herself, though she knew Waylon was into guys whether he wanted everyone to know or not she still couldn't help but find herself enveloping into nothing more than her shyness.

As the two boys exchanged their words about the Latin subject she just folded her arms across her chest and glanced down at Ginger, he companion. If anyone knew what was running through her mind right now, it would be none other than her owl, Ginger. She knelt down beside the cage and slid a couple of her petite fingers through the bars and pet Ginger to the best of her abilities. Rose just couldn't wait until they arrived at the castle so she would be able to allow Ginger to stretch her wings. She hated keeping her in a cage, but on the ship, it was mandatory for owls to stay caged.

Finally she heard Abraham turn his attention towards Rose while Waylon was speaking with another prefect, one of whom she never really had a chance to get to know, nor did she think she ever would. “Not feeling sea sick, are you?” she heard him state as she removed her attention from her loving pet and gave a polite smile up towards him. At first she had forgotten about the whole seasickness, though once he asked she question it had returned and with a bang.

The brunette quickly stood to her feet and pushed through the crowd towards the nearest edge of the ship. She threw her head over it, hurling chunks into the water. Thankfully Rose remembered to eat something that morning. Usually she doesn't eat much for breakfast but most of the time nothing at all.

Though of course something like this would happen to her. Just because she didn't want attention drawn to her, it was going to happen. She sighed as she finally stopped hurling and raised her head back away from the edge of the ship. Her cheeks flared up into a solid pink from nothing more than embarrassment as she noticed some students, both younger and older laughing and staring at her, even making subtle comments.

Just as she turned her attention back to the group, she realized that Natasha has returned, signaling for them to follow her to the compartment. The female sighed as she slowly walked back over, trying her best to calm her stomach as she held a hand over it. She reached down to grab her owl cage and suitcase before tagging along behind Natasha towards the compartment.

Once inside she sat down opposite from Natasha by the window and placed Ginger on the floor by her feet and slowly began to raise the suitcase up in her arms to set it inside the compartment above their heads that holds luggage. Though her petite arms began shaking from the weight of her suitcase, a slight blush plagued her face as she turned to the others. "Could someone help me?" she questioned in her soft, timid voice.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Waylon couldn't help but brim with excitement when Abraham snuck an affectionate moment with the Texan. “Oh come here,” the blond boy had said to Waylon, then proceeded to pull Waylon into a quick hug. Waylon's face was clearly frozen, his heart sinking, as he was unsure how to react. Should he hug back? Should he try to squeeze every opportunity out of this moment and make it a warmer, closer embrace? Before Waylon could decide, it was over and Abraham's cocky smile was plastered all over his face.
Waylon's eyes popped out of his head, his heart leaped and his mind seemed to disconnect with reality. Staring at Abraham, he couldn't help but think there was something... more significant there. Did Abraham know how pathetic Waylon really was?
People never seemed to understand why Waylon was so quiet. Maybe he was just so used to not getting what he wanted, that he just stopped trying to get it. He took what came to him, cherished it and moved on. It wasn't worth fighting for because there were other people fighting harder. He tried to shake away his yearnings for the handsome man next to him as the Stephens entered the fray.
Stephen Schwarz responded to his beckoning in a very Schwarz-like manner. He seemed to mumble a response and lift up his pocket watch, but Waylon could only barely decipher what he was saying. The timid young man was more extreme than even Waylon. You see, Waylon was reserved but not quiet – shy, but not timid. Schwarz was a fantastically cute guy, but always seemed to be caught up in something else.

All of a sudden, a five-foot-something first year ran right into Schwarz, almost knocking him off his feet. More surprising than the fact that someone can be so blind was the fact that Abraham reached out and steadied him, then turned so that he could look back at the first year with a powerful glare burned onto his face. “YOU HAVE EYES FOR A REASON, so get your head out of your ass and use them.” Abraham’s voice alone was enough to send someone running for the hills, but as soon as the first year caught a glimpse of his furious eyes he scurried off without so much as a glance back. The outburst made Stephen raise his eyebrows, and he could only imagine the look of surprise on his own face. He readjusted his spectacles much like he did in awkward social situations and cleared his throat.
The reality was that the outburst shocked the whole quarterdeck, lulling the crowd into a tolerable hush. The opportunity seen, Waylon lost not even a single moment to corral the students up into orderly lines and towards their compartments.
In what seemed like a flash, Natasha was back at the quarterdeck just as the lines began to swell down the stairs. It was a bit shaky because the whole vessel was moving, but it was nothing a person would lose balance over. "Found a compartment. It's a rather big one, so we have to hurry before it's taken," she said to the group: Waylon, Abraham, Rose and the two Stephens. "Follow me,” she exclaimed, turning around and rushing back down into the dark.
"Could someone help me?" Rose questioned the boys in her soft, timid voice. She probably meant for one of the boys who were more... inclined towards her. But Waylon's immediate reaction with all requests was to do them. Without missing a beat, Waylon grabbed one of her bags and looked at the other boys to grab the rest.

Without thinking, he grabbed Abraham by the elbow and said, “Come on, y'all. Never stare at a stampede's ass.” He eyed Schwarz and directed him to manage traffic as he ensured him that he would indeed save a seat for the freckled boy. It would only be a moment, and the kids would listen to him.
By the time they had almost caught up to Natasha, in the empty hallway just outside the compartment, Waylon let go of the blond's wrist. He had finally realized the discomfort and confusion he had caused. “I 'm sorry, hoss. I... don't know what that was about. I just wanted to get down here quick, and did what seemed natural. I definitely didn't mean to embarrass you like that. Forgive me?” He sunk back into his shyness and gently kept the door opened ahead of them so he could maintain some semblance.
As they stepped in, he gently placed Rose's bag in the corner, smiling at Natasha. The compartment was a larger one, indeed. Large enough to hold at least six or seven students. Waylon knew what sort of compartment this was. “This is a teachers' compartment!” Waylon exclaimed, bolting with enthusiasm. He was sort of giggling. “This one is normally filled with tired teachers, but this year we only have two teachers aboard and they aren't using it. Thank God! Am I right?”
“Rose, did you have any more luggage to carry? If not, I'm going to get mine from the lounge, and grab Florence. Y'all don't mind wolves, do y'all? Is everyone good? Can I get anything for anyone? Some tea or water? Maybe a hug?” He smiled, let his questions sink in, and waited for any responses.

On his way past Schwarz, he relieved him and directed him towards the compartments. Before he left him, he pulled him into a soft hug and saying, “I'm so glad to have you on the team, this year. You're a really great guy.” Before the other boy could respond, Waylon stormed off so that he could grab his luggage.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Not long after Abraham uncharacteristically did something to help him, Stephen saw Natasha make her way back over to them and announce that she found a compartment. He remembered that his items and Abraham’s were stored in the same compartment, but thinking about being in there with no one else but the blonde boy was unnerving and uncomfortable.

Abraham seemed to read his mind, for he turned to Stephen and said, “Don’t worry about your stuff, I’ll go and grab everything.” And with that, Abraham turned and followed the rest of the group through the crowds of students waiting to descend down below to their compartments.

Waylon had instructed him to direct some of the traffic and with a slight nod Stephen cleared his throat and sunk into the middle of the group, made his way down below and oversaw the flow of students, making sure everyone had a place to sit. He was surprised to see that Waylon had been right, even the first years that were always as rowdy as can be were quiet as they passed Stephen on their way to their seats. He appreciated the lack of smart comments because quite frankly, he was not in the mood for it. Abraham’s outburst up on deck had attracted attention, probably negative for the most part, and that was the last way that Stephen wanted to start the year.

On the way past him, Waylon stopped, looked at Stephen and pulled him into a hug while saying, “I’m so glad to have you on the team this year. You’re a great guy.”

Before Stephen could even manage a reply Waylon was already walking away, which left Stephen to watch him while a small, thankful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Waylon’s gesture was not only unexpected but also extremely kind and honestly needed. So far Stephen had nothing but doubts about being chosen as a Prefect; though he wanted to be one more than anything he knew he lacked the qualities of a truly perfect Prefect. The thought was unbearable.

After the crowd died out and looking in compartments here and there to make sure everyone was behaving, Stephen made his way to the last compartment on the left, then stepped inside the compartment after knocking on the door twice.

It was a grandiose compartment and he immediately realized that this is where the professors usually sat, which for a moment made him smirk. Abraham had kept his promise, because both of Stephen’s bags as well as his owl were sitting there waiting for him next to Abraham’s things. The way Stephen’s owl was watching Abraham’s with a look of annoyance almost made him want to laugh; it was the way that Stephen often looked at Abraham himself.

“Thank you,” Stephen mused towards Abraham, then proceeded to sit down next to Natasha and rest his cold hands in his lap.



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Abraham was still a little flustered due to his unexpected outburst when he saw Natasha come back and announce that she had found a compartment, and after assuring Stephen that he would grab his items he felt his arm being grabbed and turned to look at Waylon, who boldly stated, “Come on, y’all. Never stare at a stampede’s ass.”

The statement brought the ghost of a smirk onto Abraham’s lips, and without complaint he followed Waylon’s lead as they all made their way down below behind the crowd of excited students. It was only after they got halfway down the hall that Waylon turned to him and said, “I’m sorry, boss. I… don’t know what that was about. I just wanted to get down here quick, and did what seemed natural. I definitely didn’t mean to embarrass you like that. Forgive me?”

God. That country twang was impossible to get over. Before Abraham could help himself, he met Waylon’s eyes, smirked, and replied, “It’s quite alright. I could get used to being dominated like that.”

The casual statement was followed by a quick wink, which he made sure that no one but Waylon saw, and with that he turned and made his way back to the compartment that he originally found in order to grab his items as well as Stephen’s. It took two trips to get everything, and afterwards he set both of the owl cages down gently while receiving annoyed hoots from both his owl and Stephen’s.

“You’ll be free soon, stop complaining,” he gently scolded Northington, then sat down and sighed. It had just occurred to him that he still had a migraine, and he hoped that by the time they arrived at Magnus Grexx it would subside. Perhaps he was dehydrated from all the coffee he drank.

He looked up at Waylon as he offered to get anyone anything and simply shook his head at how kind the boy was. Even more than that, it was genuine kindness, the type of kind that Abraham was unsure he could even imitate. The thought made him bite his lower lip and pull his gaze away, just as Stephen made his way inside the compartment, glanced at his stuff and offered a ‘thank you’ to Abraham.

“Not a problem at all,” Abraham simply retorted.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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The farther the ship went out into the sea, the darker the clouds above became. No rain, just grey color that contrasted with Natasha's flighty mood. She unbuttoned her long trench coat, revealing a steel blue long sleeve t-shirt, as well as a pair of denim jeans. Molded to her feet were her leather hiking boots, which were the only pair of shoes she had owned for a solid four years. Because of this, she had a tendency to borrow other people's shoes whenever she desperately needed another pair for a formal occasion or otherwise. That's why, in the girl's dormitory especially, she was referred to as "The Shoe Thief".

Rose took a seat across from her, putting down Ginger's cage. Ginger was a snowy white owl who was as obedient to Rose as she was beautiful. Natasha smiled down at the bird, leaned forward, and with her finger, stroked through the creature's feathers. "How are you?" she cooed. Her voice was raised an octave. "I bet your mama took very good care of you over the summer..."

She then looked up to smile at Rose, who appeared somewhat uneasy, as per usual. "I miss not having a pet," she said, "although if I were to get one, I don't know if I'd want a cat again, or if I should change to an owl. I guess I'll decide sooner or later. There's no way I'm getting a toad, though." she chuckled, "They're so freaky-looking..."

Perhaps Rose could help her find another animal to keep Natasha company throughout the school year. That was an activity they would have to save for another day, however, because tonight was going to be filled with feasting and festivity. At other muggle schools, the first day back was always a pain, but at Magnus Grexx, it was more like a party. First years would be sorted, new teachers would be introduced, and of course, the school would be providing enough delicious food to fill everyone's stomach twice over. A wonderful day indeed.

However, Natasha's attention was brought back to the horrible day that had occurred on the East Coast as she realized that the newspaper she had found on the floor was currently being scrunched up against her leg and the wall to her right. She flapped it out and re-read the article on the front page; the one that told of horrible soul-sucking creatures called dementors.

“This is a teachers' compartment!” exclaimed Waylon. The boys had finally reached the compartment. With her attention half on the paper, half on Waylon, Natasha glanced to find Stephen Schwarz sitting next to her, as well as Abraham situating himself in a seat nearby. She still didn't see Stephen Notwood, and for a moment, she wondered if Nora Gray would ever take her up on her offer.

"Y'all don't mind wolves, do y'all? Is everyone good? Can I get anything for anyone? Some tea or water? Maybe a hug?” Natasha snickered. "The last offer sounds enticing, but I think we're all good. And wolves don't bother me at all. Thanks, Waylon."

She then pulled out her hickory wand from her pocket, pointing it at the luggage above. She concentrated hard, and instantly, the quill pen she had summoned from her suitcase came flying towards her. Natasha effortlessly caught it and smiled; she was getting better at unspoken spells.

There was an awkward silence while the girl read over the article once more. She had summoned her quill in order to get to the crossword puzzle in the back, but before that, she'd have another go at trying to piece together this puzzle instead. She lowered her brows. What was this "kiss" that the writer of the report seemed to stress so much importance on? The word was in bold, italicized letters. Combined, they screamed at her on the page, making her curiosity boil. Why would it matter to anyone if a hooded skeleton-thing pecked them on the cheek? It just didn't make sense, and she needed some answers. And she knew just the right person who could give her answers. In fact, he was sitting right next to her. The problem was, she had never talked to him before in her two years at Magnus Grexx, and she didn't quite know how to talk to him now, either. If she were to talk to him in the same way she talked to everyone else, well... there was a good chance the awkward silence in the room would grow just as awkward.

So Natasha decided to use another form of communication. Quickly, she circled the words "dementor" and "kissed", scribbling a plethora of question marks next to the latter. She then found an empty space on the side of the page, and began to write three points...

I. Hi.
II. Can you explain this, please?


And finally...

III. Do you think an attack like this could happen on the island?

Satisfied, she stared out the window to her right, and noiselessly passed the newspaper onto Stephen's lap.

"Strange how the weather outside has changed so much in the past couple of minutes," she said as a conversation starter to break the deafening silence. Although, she thought her words were more of a distraction rather than a way to get everyone talking again.

She dropped her quill pen next to the prefect beside her, and continued to gaze out at the raging sea.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Honestly when Rose asked for some assistance with her luggage, she was shocked when she found that Waylon immediately went to help her. She smiled over at him, "Thanks Waylon," she stated to him as he sat her luggage down beside her. She found herself glancing out the window, feeling a bit shy around all of these people she doesn't really now. The only one she felt truly comfortable around is Natasha.

"How are you?" Natasha questioned to Ginger. "I bet your mama took very good care of you over the summer..." Rose smiled as she watched the blonde talking to her owl.

Rose noticed Natasha remove her attention from Ginger and towards herself. "I miss not having a pet," she said, "although if I were to get one, I don't know if I'd want a cat again, or if I should change to an owl. I guess I'll decide sooner or later. There's no way I'm getting a toad, though." she chuckled, "They're so freaky-looking..." Rose chuckle a bit at Natasha's words and nodded her head in agreement, "That's for sure," she responded with a sigh. "When we have the time maybe we could go pet shopping for ya," she stated to Natasha, thinking it would be a great way for the two of them to spend some time together after the long summer that was behind them.

She couldn't help but to notice Natasha picking up a newspaper from the floor and begin to scribble some words onto the paper and handed it over to Stephen, the freckled boy who was sitting next to her. She was a bit curious about what was going on but decided that she wasn't going to get into it. It was none of her business, if Natasha wanted her to know what was going on she would tell her.

Though when she heard Waylon's words she just shook her head at his offer, "Thanks for the offer but I'm fine for right now," she stated. Mainly because she didn't want to eat anything while on this ship after finding herself puking over the edge of it just moments before. Rose couldn't wait until they got to Magnus Grexx so she wouldn't have to worry about feeling nauseous again. Then she would be able to get some food into her stomach and have a great time.

Rose crossed her bare legs and pulled her skirt back down just above her knees. That was one of the main things she hated about wearing skirts and dresses, she constantly has to make sure they haven't risen up too far. She then let out a soft sigh and leaned her head against the window and stared out, trying to calm her stomach down. The last thing she needed was to get sick in the compartment. The brunette closed her eyes as she placed her hands upon her stomach.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera
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____

All that Waylon could think about was the way Abraham had responded to him, and how much Natasha really shined in a crowd. And also about how much he had neglected Schwarz in the past. And how much he wished Rose would come out of her shell. Dammit! Waylon couldn't sit in judgement – he had a two-by-four up his ass, half the time.
“I could get used to being dominated like that.” Those words kept ringing in his mind. Abraham was never dominated – he was the dominator. He was an Arietem boy, dammit. What was Waylon even doing, anyway? Why in the Sam Hill did he drag the boy down to the compartment like that? And what was that wink all about?
Waylon hated these questions. He hated all questions, really. And then again, he didn't know how to stop asking himself them. He had to circumnavigate the easy answers and come to very complex conclusions. The right answer cound never be the ones most obvious to Waylon. If you wanted to hide something from Waylon, you just had to put it in right in his face.
Waylon's bags, and of course, Florence the wolf were waiting for him by the forecastle, near the front of the ship. One of the professors aboard was up on deck at the moment, enjoying a puff from his pipe as he inspected the crew. He tipped his bowler hat to Waylon as the Cervus boy passed him.
Florence pounced up as he saw his brother beckon, his wolf tail wagging in simultaneous excitement and boredom. He had been laying on Waylon's luggage – partly to keep it safe, and partly because the wolf didn't like laying on the floor of the deck. Waylon scratched Florence behind the ear and grabbed his bags, leading his other to the compartment.

Back down in the compartment, he spied Rose gazing out into the expanse of the ocean, Natasha scribbling love letters to the Schwarz, and Abraham sitting in his all his masculine glor...
"Strange how the weather outside has changed so much in the past couple of minutes," Natasha asked the group. Without missing a beat, Waylon exclaimed “Damn straight! The ocean's full of surprises. That' why I don't trust it. You can't be swept up in a typhoon or a hurricane or a kracken's belly in the middle of a farm. Only thing you gotta fear is a skeeter. Or cockroaches! Ewww. Or maybe getting' chopped up by some weirdo with a chainsaw. That's always fun.”
He took an inconspicuous seat next to Abraham, not acknowledging him entirely. Waylon cracked an eery smile as he looked around the room and asked, “Okay. So here we're out in sea and I'm not back on shift for another 3 hours. Who wants to help me take off my cowboy boots? I'll get us some sweet tea and we can talk about our dreams and our plans for after school this year.”
He then lifted his boots in victorious display, the black leather shining against the lamps in the room. He then pulled up a part of his pant-sleeve and did a mock can-can dance. “Don't act like you've never dreamt of smelling a cowboy's socks before!”

“Natasha, Schwarz, Abraham. What are y'all gonna do after the school year? What's the plan? I'd ask you, too, Rose,” he nodded to the youngest girl in the room, ”but you've got a couple more to go. But what do you have planned in the meantime?” Having asked that, he gazed up into Abraham's eyes – dreamy- and then over to Natasha. He knew what she had planned, or at least what she was planning as of last May. Those two have had this same conversation several times before. It's always fun and refreshing, but he knew this would probably be one of the very last times he would ask it.
Florence had come up to lay on Waylon's exposed feet, and the canine was fast asleep for a good while. The wolf's bronze, peppered fur seemed to be as dirty as the red earth of Texas. In many ways, it was. Wolves were a rare thing in Texas, these days. The two had met while Waylon was a boy and he was a pup. Waylon and his pa were on a hunting trip, and life, like it always does, took an unusually fortunate twist.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Natalie Dumonte Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Isabella Gray Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Gideon Caulfield Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Robert McCullough Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Acadia Peltzer Character Portrait: Teddy Mooreland Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood Character Portrait: Luciana Salinger Character Portrait: Corky De Luca Character Portrait: Avery Blake Character Portrait: Zoe DiLaurentis
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Bobby stood at the front of the cruise, looking on at the sight of Magnus with awe and aspiration within. He couldn't control how much his lust for returning outpaced itself. "Ah, fresh air indeed.. He thought silently to himself. He fixed his posture and licked his lips, followed by untying the knot in his freshly green tie. Bobby sniffed, once and again, finding himself uncontrollably sneezing at that. He whipped his nose with his arm, shaking his head as a sign of relief as he peaked over, noticing something strangely odd, grotesque rising to the top of the ocean losing all hope as his face changed from relief to horror within seconds.

They were humongous, rising in the league of hundreds, mermen and maid alike. All holding on tightly to their tridents and pitchforks. But they were waiting, almost as though they had been signaled. With shock came blood, as the skies lit up in a dash of multiple colors, snakes in fact, swirling around the other, almost hissing like a python in the Egyptian deserts. He gripped tightly onto his wand, turning left to face the cold that awaited him.

Men, covered in masks and smoke. Demons he thought? But he knew all too well for what was to come. Screams filled the air, followed by laughter and spells shouting left and right from one another. He fell down, watching the death eaters board the cruise one by one, filling what joy the students had with coldness, rain and death.

He pulled out his wand, breathing heavily with short pauses to catch his breath. Where were the others? Were they safe? Secure? His thoughts mesmerized and changed, crossing his arms as he hid under the cupboard by the deck, surrounded by spells shooting back and forth. "We're at deck! We're at deck!" The captain cried, stopping the cruise to a halt as Bobby exited. Pushing, following and running for his life.

"Dementors! Dementors!" A poor young girl screamed, pointing to the skies as they fell like rain. Bobby could see the carriages in clear view that would lead him to the school, safe and unharmed. He sped up his pace and ran, turning his back to see an all out war still on the cruise. "Faster, I must.." He repeated by the dozens. He could see it, the carriage just a few distances away, finally, he had made it.

Too soon the boy had hoped. Bobby clenched hard onto the carriage door, unknowingly realizing his fate would be decided right there. A word came..followed by a flash of green light. Bobby hit the floor with a face that had been filled with pink now cold like ice. He was dead.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne
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It was only when he felt something being placed on his lap that Stephen came out of his daydream-like state. After adjusting his glasses and sneaking a quick glance at Natasha, he averted his eyes down to what looked like a half-crumpled newspaper article and a quill sitting on top.

After picking up said quill his eyes scanned the words like a machine: quickly, efficiently. The article's topic was enough to send an unpleasant shiver through him, he felt as if he had been dunked in frigid water and it had absorbed into his skin and right down into the marrow of his bones.

While spinning the quill between his thumb and index finger he also noticed the circled words as well as Natasha's neat handwriting on the edge of the paper. It was enough make him smile, and as he glanced over at her the horrible chill he felt dissipated.

In the other corner of the paper, with his perfectly imperfect cursive, he began to address her questions:


I. Hello, love.

II. Imagine a fate worse than death. Your spirit being sucked out of you like some sort of delicious elixir of life by these creatures. The Dementor's Kiss was used by The Ministry of Magic as a sentence for the most 'heinous' of criminals...it was more fun for them to watch than to simply dispose of them through more...permanent means.

III. I do not want to be the bearer of bad news, but I am afraid that it is possible for an attack like this to happen on the island. Actually there is no doubt in my mind that it may very well happen. Nothing feels like it once did. It no longer feels...as safe as it did.


After reviewing his response, making sure it was as accurate and precise as possible, Stephen wordlessly set the article onto Natasha's lap, followed by the quill. As unpleasant as the response was, there was no use beating around the bush. A storm of sorts was brewing.

"Natasha, Schwarz, Abraham. What are y'all gonna do after the school year? What's the plan? I'd ask you too, Rose, but you've got a couple more to go. But what do you have planned in the meantime?" Waylon glanced around at everyone in the room while asking the question, and after waiting a couple of seconds to see if anyone else would speak first, Stephen cleared his throat and began speaking in his soft voice.

"....I haven't exactly settled on something, so nothing is set in stone...however, I am considering being an Auror. That has always seemed like a rewarding position." He did not mention the fact that he might actually want to seek a 'normal' career in the muggle world, perhaps something to do with sciences. He wanted to avoid the judgement that was sure to arise if he revealed that.

"It's Quidditch for me after this, I want to play professionally. It's the only thing I seem to be good at," Abraham replied with a quick nod to Waylon, and perhaps he was going to say something else when the sound of distant screams erupted from up above.

"Oh hell," Stephen muttered to himself as he stood up. He knew the quietness wouldn't last long and that eventually some first or second years would let boredom get the best of them, after all that is what usually happened halfway through the trip, but as he made his way towards the door the screams intensified and a disgusting mixture of nausea and horror settled upon the Prefect. Something did not feel right.

"DEMENTORS! DEMENTORS!" a distant female voice shrieked, and like a moth flew toward a flame Stephen tore the door open and flew out into the hall, past the curious heads that were peeking out through the doorways.

"EVERYBODY STAY IN THEIR COMPARTMENTS," he shouted to nobody yet everybody, and before anybody could complain or disobey Stephen pulled his wand out from his right boot and jinxed all of the doors locked wordlessly. If something were to happen to him, at least he could say that he performed his duties and protected the lives that he was in charge of.

The only two sounds he could hear were the sound of his own heart angrily pounding deep within its rib cage confinement, as well as the sound of footsteps running behind him. Not bothering to look back, Stephen took the stairs up two at a time and was immediately met by a swarm of Death Eaters, each bigger than the last, and within seconds there was a light show occurring on deck, the lights being a result of various curses and spells erupting from the tips of wands. He did not even have time to register the fact that it was raining, which only made it harder to tell where each spell was coming from.

He was outnumbered three to one, and from the corner of his eye he saw that Abraham also emerged up on deck and was angrily tossing out spells at the speed of light towards the three goons that were surrounding him. Unfortunately he was just as outnumbered and Stephen could only hope that the Quidditch player could handle himself.

Then it happened.

The last thing he heard before collapsing to the wooden floor in white-hot, excruciating, unbelievable pain was a heartless male voice yell "CRUCIO!"

And as his whole world went dark, he could make out a face hovering over him. The Death Eater was about to finish him off.



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Just as the Schwarz had gotten Abraham to thinking about his future Quidditch career, a series of sharp shrieks and screams from up above brought it all to a shocking halt. He wasn't sure what the reason for the screaming was, but apparently the Schwarz was aware of something because before any of them had a chance to even question it, he had run out into the hall without as much as a glance back.

"What the f--" Abraham began, but he quickly cut himself off and popped his head out into the hall. All he could see was Stephen's back as he raced towards the stairs, and before Stephen took the short flight up Abraham watched as he jinxed the doors to all of the compartments closed. "Shit," he cursed to himself, then glanced back into their compartment and met Waylon's eyes before following Stephen.

There was no time to question anything, and after emerging on the top deck and taking a look around, Abraham had no need to either. For a moment he had to question if they were being looted by pirates, but it didn't take long for him to see the 'pirates' had wands drawn and cloaks hiding their faces.

It happened in a flash: first he was standing there observing the chaos and the next moment, three Death Eaters had surrounded him, disgusting smirks on their pallid faces. Without faltering Abraham drew his wand out and a 'battle' of sorts began, and while Abraham could say that dueling was on his list of strengths it wasn't as easy as it was in class when the other person would back down if it came to be too much.

His spells were unspoken, rapid, and after managing to disarm two of the three goons he delivered a powerful kick to the center of the third's chest, followed by a quick 'Petrificus Totalus' to make sure all three weren't going anywhere. Clearly these three were new to the circle and not very well trained, and hopefully the majority of the ones that had descended on the ship were the same.

"CRUCIO!" he heard someone holler, and he had to squint to see past the rain and make out who was hit.

It was Stephen Schwarz.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Gideon Caulfield Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera
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There was a full-blown storm outside now. Waylon, as well as his wolf, Florence, had finally returned to the cabin. “Damn straight! The ocean's full of surprises." he quipped at Natasha's comment, "That' why I don't trust it. You can't be swept up in a typhoon or a hurricane or a kracken's belly in the middle of a farm. Only thing you gotta fear is a skeeter. Or cockroaches! Ewww. Or maybe getting' chopped up by some weirdo with a chainsaw. That's always fun.”

Suddenly, Natasha felt something drop onto her lap.

Stephen had replied.

"Natasha, Schwarz, Abraham. What are y'all gonna do after the school year? What's the plan? asked Waylon. "I'd ask you too, Rose," he added as an afterthought, "but you've got a couple more to go. But what do you have planned in the meantime?" Natasha then pulled up the paper and promptly read Stephen's handwriting...

I. Hello, love.

Love? She raised a brow and smirked. What an interesting choice of words.

"....I haven't exactly settled on something, so nothing is set in stone... muttered Stephen in response to Waylon's question, "however, I am considering being an Auror. That has always seemed like a rewarding position."

She read over his second reply...

II. Imagine a fate worse than death. Your spirit being sucked out of you like some sort of delicious elixir of life by these creatures. The Dementor's Kiss was used by The Ministry of Magic as a sentence for the most 'heinous' of criminals...it was more fun for them to watch than to simply dispose of them through more...permanent means.

She stared at his words for a moment, letting their intensity process into her brain, and then shuddered. She felt sorry for the muggle out there who had to suffer such a traumatizing experience. A part of her hoped that she would never have to experience the same thing.

While Abraham was talking, she inspected Stephen's third and final reply, shuddering more than the last response he had written. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she read...

III. I do not want to be the bearer of bad news, but I am afraid that it is possible for an attack like this to happen on the island. Actually there is no doubt in my mind that it may very well happen. Nothing feels like it once did. It no longer feels...as safe as it did.

He could write that last sentence again. When she had first read the article, Natasha wondered whether or not it was wise to alert the headmaster and faculty of the dementors and the threat they posed to Magnus Grexx. With Stephen's answers, she supposed they already knew. Like he had stated, nothing felt like it once did...

Natasha then opened her mouth to answer Waylon's question. That's when the sound of distant screams filled the silence. They came from above, and struck fear into the hearts of everyone in the compartment.

"What was that?" Natasha asked after faintly hearing another frightening noise. It sounded like lightening...or perhaps an explosion...

Just then, a blood-curdling scream filled the air.

"DEMENTORS! DEMENTORS!" shouted a female voice.

What a coincidence.

Like a moth flew toward a flame, Stephen tore the door open and flew out into the hall, past the curious heads that were peeking out through the doorways. Natasha rose from her seat. Abraham exited into the hall as well.

"Wait, guys..."

But before she had the chance to escape the compartment herself, the door in front of her slammed shut, followed by a heartbreaking clicking sound.

"No, no, NOOO!!!" she roared, pounding her fists against the wood. Her stomach was twisting in knots.

"Son of a banshee jinxed the doors shut..." she angrily exhaled. Furious, she pulled out her wand and gazed out the window. Dementors and colored lights from cast spells were flying all over the place. Fortunately, the ship was close to the dock, the carriages not too far away...

She turned to Waylon and Rose. "Stand back..." she commanded, guiding them behind her, and getting as far away from the window as she possibly could before pointing her wand at the wall.

"BOMBARDA!!!"

She coughed as a cloud of sawdust filled her lungs. Fortunately, the mini explosion had teared open the wood, allowing an escape from the ship. With haste, Natasha ran forward, jumping feet-first into the cold waters below. The waves were angry and she had to dive into the water once or twice to avoid a ricocheting spell, but eventually she was able to pull herself up onto the docks.

It was out of the corner of her eye that she saw the body of Bobby Burkinson sprawled out on the ground nearby. From his pale face and stunned expression, she knew he was clearly dead. There were masked figures and hooded dementors everywhere, but to her chagrin, there were no teachers around. If they didn't come soon enough, the ship sitting behind her would surely turn into a slaughterhouse.

With an unsaid spell, Natasha paralyzed the masked man in front of her, allowing a clear path to the quarterdeck. Breath short, Natasha shouted, "ABRAHAM! STEPHEN!" and ran full-force onto the ship. Another masked man grabbed her from behind. She swiftly kicked him in the groin, turning around and yelling, "Expelliarmus!" The man's wand gone, she finished him off with a quick stupefy, and continued forward.

It was then that she saw Stephen Schwarz collapse onto the ground, a tall male figure heartlessly looming over him. An echo of the word "Crucio" still hung in the chilled air, and it was upon the curse's utterance into her wet ears that Natasha bore a terrifying scowl. She seethingly pointed her wand right at the masked man's heart.

"REDUCTO!"

With a huge blast of blue light, the man flew far past the deck of the ship, giving a distant shriek as he landed head-first into the depths of the black ocean below.

Natasha then ran towards Stephen, crouching over his motionless body. "Stephen wake up!" she shook him, inhaling and exhaling the air so fast, that she was starting to choke. "Stephen, PLEASE WAKE UP!!"

"You go," said a calm voice above her, "I'll take care of him."

She looked up to find Gideon Caulfield peering down at her with slanted eyes. She didn't completely trust him with Stephen, but with the chaos that surrounded them, what choice did she have?

Giving him a curt nod, she got up to her feet, watching him effortlessly pick up the Ferres boy and swing his body over his broad shoulder. Natasha then sprinted towards the beach, hoping to clear out the area for innocent first years trying to escape the quarrel.

That's when a dark figure sprung out from the depths of the water below, pushing Natasha back onto the sand.

She looked at the hooded figure and grunted. "Potrificus Totalus!" she roared, but it was no use; the closer the creature got to her, the more she felt drawn into its cold, biting breath. Suddenly, everything felt hopeless and dark, and she was losing more of her already blurred vision.

She waved her wand again, only to be met by another fearsome dementor. The stick of magical hickory wood keeping her alive then flew from her hand onto the beach as if to mock her. Slowly, Natasha could feel her entire body sink into the sand below.

"No, no, no..." she painfully whispered before the ground rose up to meet her.

Another came. And then another. Before she knew it, the whirling sensation of the dementors' powers sent her into a painful vertigo. Blackness filled her entire body. The last thing she heard before passing out was the familiar sound of a little girl screaming.




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"You just keep getting heavier and heavier, don't you..." Gideon mirthlessly mused. He laughed at his current predicament. The funniest thing about carrying a limp boy through the raging tides of war was that it wasn't funny at all. Sauntering through the battlefield as though he were invincible, the cunning Arietem made his way towards the safety of the pitch-black forest nearby. The carriages were a faster way to get to the castle, yes, but Bobby Burkinson had used his last breath trying to reach the carriages, henceforth, the carriages were a waste of time. Right now, time was the most precious thing that the terrified students possessed. Once it ran out for all of them, the school would surely be doomed.

"Periculum!" he cried, sending a wave of red sparks into the rainstorm before his body was enveloped in leafy bushes and moody pine trees. He'd have to navigate his way from the docks to the castle without the use of a road. Fortunately, Gideon knew the forest area of the island like the back of his hand. After all, his friends hid in the woods every year in order to make campfires, drink smuggled firewhiskey, and practice dark magic without the headmaster's knowing.

The farther he journeyed into the vegetation, the more distant the sounds of screams and spells became. For a moment, it was almost peaceful. Schwarz weighing practically nothing now, Gideon rose his wand and whispered, "Lumos."This created a light on the tip of his wand bright enough to see the beetles and other insects that crawled upon the moist forest floor.

At first, all Gideon could hear was the sound of raindrops pounding against the trees, as well as his shoes imprinting into the squishy mud below. And then a boom filled the air, and he turned to notice the dark mark appear throughout the sky.

The symbol was a lot bigger than he thought it would be, but ultimately less impacting than seeing it inked upon his parents' forearms. He gazed upon it impassively. It was a historical moment, as it marked the return of the notorious Death Eaters. Still, it reminded Gideon of the many classmates and friends that would feel the group's painful wrath. It was a satisfying moment for him, but not in a happy, joyful sense.

Suddenly, there was a rustling sound.

He drew his wand, gazing upon a masked figure wearing a black robe. Another Death Eater, but a straggler.

As the man drew his out his own wand, Gideon quickly unrolled his shirt sleeve, revealing a black woven bracelet with two glass charms attached to it. One was a transparent skull, the other, a full moon.

"Remember the deal..." he sultrily murmured to the man. With a sigh, the Death Eater put his wand back in his pocket, and turned back around. It was then that Gideon took the liberty to stun him by uttering a quick killing curse. The poor man went down more dramatically than Bobby Burkinson, and for a second, the Arietem found himself chuckling. He had no qualms with killing. In fact, he was used to it by now.

A few minutes later, the towering walls of the castle came into view. "Almost there..." he whispered to the boy still draped across his shoulder. Gideon checked behind him before retreating the woods and tromping up the steps of the school. Hurriedly, he knocked on the large doors, hoping he'd be able to sneak inside Magnus Grexx before the rest of the Death Eaters did.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Natalie Dumonte Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood Character Portrait: Corky De Luca
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”Not quite, yet,” the Texan replied, ”oh, but we're still holding our breaths. My uncle, the monsignor back home, says all the Masses in Latin under dispensation from our bishop. Some of my kinfolk refused to go to Mass until that dispensation was enforced. 'Course, there is definitely room for English... when German or Latin doesn't suffice.”.

"Quite true. I have a great deal of affection for the English language. With its patchwork of words and grammar from other languages, there isn't a language like it," the pure-blood noted. With that, he remained mostly quiet, observing the others and contributing to the conversation here and there. The cruise was pleasant and he was looking forward to another school year.

Then, an icy hand gripped his heart and everything went to hell in a hand basket. He cursed and gripped his wand as he watched helplessly as other students fell to an unholy alliance of Death Eaters and Dementors. In a split second he had to make a decision. Would he have a better chance of survival hiding somewhere in his compartment or fighting their attackers?

He calmly stepped out of his compartment and, spotting a group of Death Eaters, he thrust out his wand and softly murmured, "Flipindo Tria."

He watched with some satisfaction as the fools were knocked against the wall by a tornado of magic, losing consciousness. Honestly, it was a third year spell. He smiled charmingly at his friends.

"I really see this as an opportunity to cut loose, don't you?"

As he said that, he grimaced as a Dementor flew towards him. He had not yet fully mastered the Patronus Charm. It took great effort for him to produce a corpeal one.. Quickly, he drew circles in thin air with his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a jet of white vapor erupted from his wand, halting the creature as he grinned, his patronus clearing his mind enough to allow him to regain a happier state of mind. Now then, what memory was strong enough for him to use? Ah yes, last New Year's Eve. He had not gotten any sleep that night.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a luminescent snake was produced by his wand. It hissed as the Dementor before lunging at it and Stephen nodded in satisfaction before he heard a familiar scream.

"Schwarz!"

He ran towards the scream and spotted his classmate and the perpetrator, his mask hiding his expression, but Stephen could tell he was enjoying torturing the boy. He gripped his wand before making a slashing motion, casting the first spell that came to mind.

"Sectumsepra!"

Stephen watched coldly as his spell made a large cut across the man's chest. He cursed when he heard a scream. Okay, it was time to lose the bravado.

"Stephen is not physically injured, but he's not getting up anytime soon," he murmured to the group, not caring in the slightest what they thought of his using a dark spell to leave a man to bleed out. He was not going to think about it now. He stepped down the hall and his heart clenched. He hadn't known Bobby well, but he didn't deserve to die.

"We can give him his last rites later. For now, we can make his enemies suffer greatly before they die."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Gideon Caulfield Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne
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He was not dead, that he knew for sure. Unconscious, but not dead.

He was watching himself through somebody else’s eyes, and he recognized his surroundings immediately. The disheveled yet somehow organized mess in the kitchen of his Connecticut home, with his mother sitting at the table across from an eleven year old, lanky, freckled boy. The boy watched as his mother flipped through the pages of a physics textbook wordlessly, how her nose crinkled as she read and concentrated. Why was he having this memory now? What was the significance of it?

But in a way, he knew. This was before the acceptance letter had arrived, before the tension had settled into the Schwarz household like a fourth family member. Oh, how he had wanted to please his mother and be…normal. Follow in her footsteps, so to speak.

Before he could get a firm grasp on the memory, it began fading like fine mist until he was surrounded by nothing. The dark was like a cloak that suddenly wrapped itself around him, one that he could not shake off.

He was not dead. He was not dead. He was not dead.


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It took a moment for Abraham to realize that they were docked and that he could flee the ship in search for help. But what was to become of the first years still locked below? Were they safe down there? A thousand questions hung in the air but he did not have time to answer any of them, for more Dementors were hovering closer.

In a series of quick steps he dashed off through the scurrying crowd, throwing out hexes here and there when he needed to, and once he finally made it off the ship and on the shore he remembered. Where the hell was Waylon?!

“Fuck,” he cursed angrily, but before he could look back he saw a swarm of Dementors all gathered around what was probably a helpless person.

“No no no no,” he started, then began racing in that general direction, his wand clutched tightly in his right fist. The only way to get rid of the appalling creatures was by using the Expecto Patronum spell, and other than performing it in class for practice he had never had to do it in real world situations. There was no time to waste in debating whether or not do try it, however, and after stopping twenty feet away from the hooded creatures Abraham closed his eyes and thought back to his happiest memory so far. Arietem winning the house cup last year, the beautiful feast that followed afterwards.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he shouted while pointing his wand towards the creatures, and out of the white mist that began pouring from the tip of the wand emerged a glorious lion that ran full speed towards its target. It collided with the Dementors silently and as soon as they began to recede, Abraham reached whom he finally saw as the victim: Natasha.

Every last ounce of bravery he felt dissipated as he crouched down next to the weak girl; he was feeling sick to his stomach. “Natasha,” he began softly, then pulled her into his arms. “Natasha, answer me,” he tried again, but his voice was failing him. Everything around him was coming to an end, and the worst part was that just an hour before everything was joyful. Colorful. Full of life.

Wherever the Dementors went, they took the last of the happiness with them.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera Character Portrait: Stephen Notwood
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Waylon felt the scream as if it were right in front of his eardrum. It pained him. His heart sank down to his ass, and he felt light headed as he popped up. Stephen rushed out of the compartment, swiftly followed by Abraham. The two 7th years locked eyes for a brief moment – as if everything was going to change. Waylon cursed himself.

His boots were still off when the two had left, leaving him a very tight window to get them back on. He was able to swing them on, but not before the two other boys had already made their grandiose exit.

"EVERYBODY STAY IN THEIR COMPARTMENTS," Schwarz shouted out in the hall.
"Wait, guys..." Natasha exclaimed. But before she had the chance to escape the compartment herself, the door in front of her slammed shut, followed by a heartbreaking clicking sound. 
"No, no, NOOO!!!" she roared, pounding her fists against the wood.
"Son of a banshee jinxed the doors shut..." she angrily exhaled. Furious, she pulled out her wand and gazed out the window. Dementors and colored lights from cast spells were flying all over the place.
She turned to Waylon and Rose. "Stand back..." she commanded, guiding them behind her, and getting as far away from the window as she possibly could before pointing her wand at the wall.
"BOMBARDA!!!"

Waylon coughed and felt the dust of the wood enter his lungs and choke him half to death. Waylon hated not being able to breath. He hated the feeling of suffocation. When the dust cleared, he looked out into the hole that Natasha had opened. It was an opening, but Waylon couldn't use it. It led to the water, and that was worse than the dementors.
Besides, as Head Boy, his responsibility was to the youngin's. He nodded his head to Rose, and looked back to the door. Reaching for his oak wand – substantially larger than most, being that everything is larger in Texas- the Cervus swiflty directed his thoughts towards the jinxed lock. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the lock, exclaiming “ALOHOMORAH!” The trick was done and the door opened.
Entering the dark hall, he said to his wolf, “Florence, scout the perimeter of the ship. Find the students and help me bring them to the docks. Now!” The wolf, without question, left his side and faded off into the darkness, no longer lit by the extinguished candles.
“Where are the 'fessors?” Waylon asked himself, getting a survey of the hall. It was quiet, but behind the doors of the compartments, he could hear the whines of all sorts of young students.
“Cave inimicum!” Waylon needed to know if these attackers were coming nearby. He had a mission, and although he wasn't a particularly skilled dueler, he excelled at passive spells. He knew the ship, in and out, and he had to get the remaining students out as soon as possible. Whatever the cost to himself.
“Lumos Maxima!” he exclaimed, swinging his wand with precision down the hall to the other side. A ball of light projected and detached from his wand and found itself a spot to tag onto, illuminating that part of the hall.
“Lumos Maxima!” he said again, this time swinging to the opposite direction, illuminating the other side of the hall. That would buy him some time. He ran down the hall to inspect the situation. He could hear the battle up on the deck – it was killing him to not be involved, but he knew he would be a bigger impediment, anyway. He needed to do his duty. He couldn't fail. He couldn't.
“Muffliato!” Waylon exclaimed, breaking his silence, imagining the curse to envelope the inner halls of the ship. With proper concentration, he would be able to create a channel to speak to the students, but muffle his communication to the attackers so that he could maintain some sort of stealth.
Pointing his wand to his throat, he exclaimed “Sonorus!” With the amplification of his voice, he could know speak to the younger students. “Students who are still in their compartments. This is Waylon Wolfsbach from House Cervus. We are under attack. I need you to remain calm and brave. I am going to unlock your doors soon, and we need to remain as quiet as possible. If any of you are still here, I need you to meet me in the foyer between the galley and the stairs up to the quartedeck. If you want to survive, remain quiet and be swift. Quietus.”
He then concentrated his wand towards the hall in front of him, imagining each lock unjinxed. With a flick of his wrist, he exclaimed “ALOHOMORAH TOTALUS!” And with great luck and providence, the doors were unjinxed. Many of the students were rushing out, only for Waylon to quiet them with “Silencio!”
Leading the students up to rendezvous, he met up with another group of students, led by Florence. A few of the prefects were there, as well. He gazed onto the boys and girls, most of them first and second years. They were so scared, or pale, or petrified. Many of the seventh and sixth years were already up top, perhaps many of them dead. Waylon felt himself shutter – he felt like a coward.
He arranged the students in various groups led by prefects. and calmly gave some of the more experienced prefects orders. He was going to barge the students directly through the combat and onto the docks at any cost, even his own life if necessary. A younger boy pulled on his robe and asked him, “Head Boy, sir. Are we going to be okay, sir?”
The Cervus thought for a moment, leaned back and smiled at the younger one. He gave him a tiny wink, a slight smirk, and said softly, “They're just lucky it's not a full moon, tonight.”
He looked back at the group of students – a lot less than he had hoped. But he had to push on, through.
They steadily climbed up the stairs to the quarter deck, the light from the battle illuminating their ways as they went up further. He could hear the muffled voices of Natasha, and Abraham. All of a sudden, a few of the masked men dropped down in front of Waylon and the group. Behind their masks, Waylon could feel their cruel smiles. “Ventus DUO!” Waylon exclaimed, a whirlwind escaping from his wand, pushing the men far off into the distance. “How's that for a Texas Tornado, huh?”
As they left the comfort of the hull, Waylon project a spell to protect the younger students, with some of the other prefects joining in. “Protego!” each of the remaining prefects screamed, casting a shield to protect the younger students. Having only to break his concentration momentarily to make a clear path, he casted “ventus” a few times to clear the way. Instructing the prefects to keep towards the carriages, he attempted to deflect the onslaught of the attackers.

As they came about the beach, he was able to deflect many of the nastiest hexes, although a few had broken through. Sadly, more than a few of the remaining prefects were seriously injured – one even killed. They had to keep moving on, however. Waylon's hear was panging, losing concentration on the battle. Despair was seriously affecting him.

All of a sudden, he heard Abraham shout out “EXPECTO PATRONUM.” Turning his gaze towards the end of the beach, he watched as Abraham's glorious lion rescued Natasha from the hordes of dementors. Freed from them, however, it seemed rather fleeting. Abraham didn't notice the dementors carve they way back to the two seventh years. They were still feeding.

“ABRAHAM!” Waylon screamed! Waylon silently prayed the Pater Noster, hoping that it might invoke some sort of inner strength, as he ran to the boy and girl ahead of them. The dementors were regrouping and doing it quick. He had to provide a distraction and get the rest to safety. With all the things he hid, bottled up, under the light of the moon, memories past... he should've been like a magnet to the dementors.
“Expecto patronum!” the Cervus exclaimed, though it was merely incorporeal. Enough to finish the job that Abraham had started. He found himself reaching Abraham, Natasha in his arms, and grasping to hold both of them. The energy and emotion of it all, he just wanted to know they were safe. For a brief moment, he embraced Abraham warmly.
“Please, Abraham, get up! We've got to go! Just bring Natasha! Please! Hurry!” Waylon was pedantic, almost. All he could do was beg. Reaching out his hand to the blond boy, he attempted to look into his lost eyes. He had so little time, but all of this seemed perpetual. “Abraham, please, not now. I hate this. We can't lose. I can't be alone. I need your help. I need you.”

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Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne
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For several moments as Abraham crouched down and analyzed Natasha's blank, pallid features, he felt like he was in some sort of bubble. The sounds around him seemed to be coming from a hundred miles away; the only sound that he heard up close was that of the rain pattering against the sand. The drops were running down through his hair and over his cheeks, while somewhere in the distance he heard none other than Waylon shouting at the top of his lungs. “Please, Abraham, get up! We've got to go! Just bring Natasha! Please! Hurry!”

The bubble burst as Abraham looked up to see Waylon in front of him, and before the boy could respond he felt the Texan's arms wrapping around him in a brief but nonetheless inviting hug. “Abraham, please, not now. I hate this. We can't lose. I can't be alone. I need your help. I need you.”

Waylon's words were enough to put Abraham in high alert once more. He glanced at Waylon's extended hand, then in a swift motion, he took it with his own cold one then stood to his feet and tossed Natasha over his shoulder as gently as he could. His left arm was secured protectively around the girl, and as he looked down to meet Waylon's worried eyes, Abraham squeezed his hand gently. "I am not under any circumstances leaving your side. We have to make it to the castle, now, I want to know where the fuck the headmaster is." His voice was once again strong and determined, and it was then that he realized just how worried he had been about Waylon since the attack had begun. The relief that flooded over him now was the first positive emotion he had felt over the past half hour.

He began walking hurriedly across the wet sand, his boots sinking into it with every step he took, then he remembered something else that wiped away any relief he felt just a few moments ago. "Schwarz is down. I don't know if you knew or not, but he was hit bad."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Gideon Caulfield Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: HeadMaster
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Imagine a fate worse than death...

Your spirit being sucked out of you like some sort of delicious elixir of life by these creatures...


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The girls in the chamber began squealing with laughter as gravity punched Natasha down. Her robes tattered and torn, she grimaced as the cold stone slapped hard against her bruised face, making her eyes bulge out of their sockets. Even though she experienced it more than most, the girl had never handled physical pain very well.

"Well, Scarface, are you just gonna sit there," giggled Sadie, "or am I going to have to drag you by your knotty hair again?"

In the torchlight, her face glowed hauntingly, as though she were a bare-boned demon. She had snatched up Natasha's knife in her left hand, while her right hand still contained the knife that had started this brutal showdown in the first place.

The metamorphmagi refused to stand up. Right now, dying seemed much more pleasant than getting kicked in the ass again, and if she were going to draw her last breath in this makeshift arena like a defeated gladiator lying dead in the Colosseum, then so be it. The institute's darkly-lit crypts would serve as a very nice tomb for her tiny, thin corpse.

But the more Natasha planned the details of her funeral, the more impatient Sadie grew. "I said GET UP!" she shouted, "If not, I swear on the headmistress' grave I'll gut you in two!!!"

The audience laughed. It was funny because Sadie was actually the headmistress' daughter.

Still, Natasha refused to budge. Her eyes stung so bad, that she dared not cry, as doing so would only cause more pain. With trepidation, she touched her hand to her face, shuddering at the sight of the heavy blood that painted her fingertips.

"I don't think she's moving," muttered Dorothea Slate. In manners and appearance, she was no better than Sadie. Whispers and giggles filled the air as the tension of what would happen next popped into the minds of every fourth year. The word coward was used quite a few times.

"Well then, as my grandfather used to tell me, if a puppet doesn't want to move, then you just have to pull at its strings..."

A faint gasp was heard. Natasha looked up to find Carlie Glimwood, the closest person she had to a best friend, in Sadie's custody, the bloody knife pressed against her long, pale neck. She would've told Carlie to run, as there was nobody behind her, and plenty of space between her body and the chamber door. If Sadie attempted to slash at Carlie's face as well, the effort would be futile, as the young girl would have a much more favorable chance of escape. However, there was just one teensy tiny problem...Carlie Glimwood was both blind and deaf.

"Let her go! You can hurt me all you want...you can lock my body in a coffin for all I care...just please don't touch her!!!"

Natasha's battered breath was useless. Sadie just chuckled. The teeth in her twisted smile were so sharp, they looked just like fangs.

"PLEASE!!!!"

With the loudest scream she had ever shot in her life, the metamorphmagi slumped to the floor. It was over. It was all over...

And then Sadie's breath trickled in the air like a flickering candle. "That's actually a very good idea...Y'know what...I like it." She turned to her group of goons. They all knew what to do. "LEVICORPUS!"

Natasha didn't fight back. As she hung upside down in the air, she heard the vengeful farewells of her fellow classmates grow more and more distant. She closed her eyes. It was sick to think that she deserved all of this, but she did. If only she had heeded the gossip's advice...if only she had made different choices.

If only she had been more intelligent...then perhaps none of this would have ever happened.

The door opened to a room with metal chains and a dusty wooden floor. Her ears were ringing, but Natasha could still make out the spells that caused the planks of wood below to open.

Her limp body dropped inside the improvised sarcophagus. Sadie, as well as Dorothea and another girl, gazed over her tattered flesh with both triumph and pity.

"Sweet dreams, Natasha Daggerman."

And with that, the broken planks of wood began to move back to their original places. The door to the sarcophagus was closing over her, and she'd be sleeping underneath the floorboards for the night.

In other words, it was a claustrophobic's worst nightmare.

With the little ounce of strength she had left, the metamorphmagi furiously screamed as her bruised fingers banged hard against the wood that lay just inches above her face.

It was at that moment, as she lay unconscious in Abraham's protective arms, that her closed eyelids gave the slightest stir.

She was not yet awake, but she sure as hell wasn't asleep.




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Soaking wet, Gideon knocked on the castle door once again, his patience growing thin. He waited a few minutes, and then knocked again. And again. Still, no one answered.

Either the teachers and headmaster were ignoring him inside their sanctuary, or they had all apparated to the battlefield. Perhaps it was a combination of the two. Nevertheless, Gideon was determined to reach his destination. He didn't know how much longer he could take wearing Stephen Schwarz on his shoulder like a sash.

There was no way he could unlock the door. After all, there were no locks or keyholes to use alohomora on, and the entranceway was bewitched to knock back any attempted explosions. Therefore, Gideon would have to find another way into the castle...and quickly.

He'd have to go around...

Or perhaps up...

About thirty feet above him stood a walkway perched directly on top of the castle gate. It was narrow, but well sealed with ledges and ionic columns. From there it was possible to head straight to the infirmary, as well as the extra-curricular house if you took the long way around. In a short while, it would also serve as Gideon's landing pad.

At least, that was if he was able to make the jump. Shakily, he emitted a miasma of nervous energy, locked his jaw, and gazed up at his destination. It was hard to be confident about such a move when your greatest fear was heights. To Gideon, falling down to his doom instead of getting pummeled by Death Eaters like the rest of the students seemed like a terrible and pathetic way to go.

Still, he knew the two spells he would need to make it. All he had to do was say them clearly, point in the right direction, and pray that nothing would go wrong.

"This is going to be some pretty trippy shit," he grumbled. He looked back at Stephen one last time.

"Sit tight in your chair, Stephen Hawking," he said before pointing his wand up towards the grey sky and yelling, "ASCENDIO!"

As though Gideon were a bullet, he shot straight up into the heavens, the walkway just fifteen feet below him. Empty atmosphere all around, he anxiously panted in and out through his mouth like a tired dog. The Arietem dared not look down, for fear of passing out while in the air and never waking back up again. He gripped on to Stephen's body tightly, as though he were a living parachute. Eventually, the earth's magnitude forced Gideon to stop rising. He started to fall down faster than he had flown up.

The seventeen-year-old pointed his wand directly at his feet. This was going to be the tricky part.

"ARRESTO MOMENTUM!" he cried. At first, nothing happened, and then slowly he felt the air around him turn soft and cushiony as though he were sinking down to the bottom of a fishbowl.

Propelling himself across the ledge onto the walkway, the restless teenager ran straight towards the infirmary as soon as his feet touched solid ground.

He shoved the door open, making the matron squeal in consternation. Clearly, she wasn't expecting his surprise visit.

"Why sir, what are you-"

"Is the headmaster aware of the fact that the cruise ship is currently being attacked by dementors and Death Eaters?" he spat.

The nurse's eyes widened in shock and fear. Her words were lost in her throat for a second before she managed to cough up,"I do not know, but I will surely go alert him." She then scurried away, quickly turning around for a moment and adding, "Is that boy you have there hurt?" as an afterthought.

"Not hurt," he answered, "just unconscious."

"Lie him on a bed then," she retorted, "I'll attend to him as soon as this is over."

Once she left the infirmary, Gideon placed Stephen on one of the empty beds, finding a nearby chair to rest upon while he gazed out the foggy window. He slumped back, running an exhausted hand through his slicked-back hair.

The young man sighed. "I'm sure you'll have plenty more in here worse than him..." he mused to himself as though the nurse were still able to hear him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Natasha Daggerman Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne
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Abraham squeezed Waylon's hand gently. "I am not under any circumstances leaving your side. We have to make it to the castle, now, I want to know where the fuck the headmaster is."His voice was once again strong and determined, almost startling Waylon. The Head Boy's eyes flashed with hope as the Arietem surged back to his usual, haughty self. The two lifted each other, with Natasha in tow, and headed off the beach back to the rest of the students running for their lives. The prefects were doing what they could to keep their shields up, though the death eaters and dementors were hitting them hard.
"Schwarz is down. I don't know if you knew or not, but he was hit bad," Abraham finally expressed as he came closer back to Earth. Through the battle, Waylon attempted to reflect the best reaction he could: a faint “uh-oh” face. Deep inside, Waylon wanted to scream and piss himself, but at the moment he had to watch Abraham's – and ergo Natasha's- backs.
By the time they got back to the larger group of students, it seemed like the thick of the battle was at its peak. Seeing that the majority of students had congregated together around the 7th years near the carriages, it seemed that most of the stragglers were fighting their way to the rest.
“Fumos!” Waylon exclaimed, a large puff of smoke billowing from his wand to cover the youngest of Magnus Grexx. Running around the rest of the group, he had hoped the smokescreen would catch onto the trees and cover them as they made their ascent up the island. While it wouldn't make them any less obvious, it would seriously hamper the death eaters' foci and capacity to cast spells.
Waylon was not an offensive duelist – he was barely a defensive duelist. He liked obscure, passive spells; the whole firefight was putting his pacifist spellcasting to the test. Facing men and women who wanted to kill not only him but also the lowerclassmen, and there weren't no two ways about it.
“I cain't do this! I'mma bouta lose my mind!” Waylon exclaimed, reaching out to grab Abraham's hand, once more seeking comfort in the other boy's soft fingers. The contrast against Waylon's rough ranch-ready hands caught him for a moment – the irony of a Frenchie Arietem and Texas tornado from Cervus was almost enough to make Waylon crack up. Well, it was enough. Waylon started giggling like a Catholic school girl – then he was downright guffawing, almost choking on his sneers and jeers.
Waylon and Abraham had never been an official ticket. Well, they've been an unofficial one, either. But since they were boys as first-years, they had a strange connection. Waylon was much more quiet back then, but Abraham was always – well, Abraham. As they got older, they noticed each other... in other ways. Generally, nobody asked as a matter of course, and neither one would divulge the details of their interactions. But usually, there only two moods the two could be in while in the same room. If it started with a flirt, they would be flirting the whole time; if it started with some sort of assertion, then the two would act like really dumb bulls dukin' it out for dominance.
It was this point that a mob of dementors had navigated themselves through the smokescreen and began to freely attack the mob of lowerclassmen. Damn, of course, you idiot! Waylon thought to himself, Freaking smoke-people would be able to see through smoke! Waylon gritted his teeth, shifting his boots in a territorial manner. “Y'all about walkin' on the fightin' side of me,” he said aloud. Still holding onto Abraham's hand, he used his other hand to cast circles with his wand. Pointing towards the dementors, he shouted, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
Abraham thought about holding Abraham's gentle hand, holding it tighter. Despite everything, the ins and outs they've been through over the years, Waylon had always had lots of fun with the Arietem captain. They were stupid friends and even more stupid rivals, but they never were selfish about it.
The first time they held hands was in the library, back in their 5th year. It happened by accident, reaching for the same book, but Waylon's hand just felt secure in Abraham's grasp. It reminded Waylon of his mother's hand – yes, Abraham was hunky and masculine- but the same gentle, confident command of her hand seem almost mirrored. It was like he was a little boy, again, with his mother in the hammock out back under the stars.
To Waylon's surprise, the spell was much more powerful for him than had been previously. In fact, the first time ever, his patronus corporealized – a wolf, no surprise. The wolf trotted around like a dog and then jolted towards the dementors, colliding against them like a shepherd dog. It was a good representation of Waylon – he was nothing but a cattle herder back home, and in terms of everything, he was a wolf. Loyal and protective of the pack, his responsibilities and those he cared for, Waylon W. Wolfsbach was not a leader, he was a servant of the whole pack.
As his patronus dissipated and the dementors with it, Waylon felt himself go weaker around the knees and let go of Abraham's hand. He had to stop for a moment to regain his composure, as the urgency to vomit seem to take over.