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Stephen Notwood

"Ambition and magic. A potent combination, isn't it?"

0 · 512 views · located in Magnus Grexx

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

Description

Stephen Notwood

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Basic Info

Name:
Stephen Notwood

Age:
15

Gender:
Male

House:
Arietem

Pet:
He's currently in the market for a snake...

Birthplace:
New York, New York,

LikesImage
  • Magic
  • Secrets
  • Wit
  • History
  • Girls
  • Ruins
  • The Past
  • Sarcasm
  • Evading authority
  • Politics
  • Influence

ImageDislikes
  • Authority
  • Judgement
  • Self-Righteousness
  • Zealotry
  • The Muggle World

Personality

To put it bluntly, Stephen is one sneaky bastard. He truly belongs in the House of Cunning and Ambition. He was raised within the game of pureblood politics so it is natural that Stephen should know how to hide his thoughts and emotions. He seeks personal advancement and has no time for lectures on selfishness or responsibility. He revels in the secrets of the past and present, particularly that of the magical world. Like many wizards, he holds little interest in the muggle world. That isn't to say that he dismisses the accomplishments of muggles. Rather, he is just not interested in them.

Magic, archaeology, history, secrets, and politics are his interests. He looks at his fellow classmates with a calculating eye first and foremost. Even with the magical population being larger in the United States than in most countries considering the country's population, most of the future players in Magical America are currently attending Magnus Grexx. Thus, it pays to pay close attention. He is fascinated by history. There are so many secrets both magical and mundane. Only a fool believes that all that ever happened is contained within mass produced texts. There are secret spells, conspiracies, and scandals hidden in the past and Stephen wants to learn them all. He also approaches magic in the manner which is only proper for a wizard in his view: with fascination and the drive to push its boundaries. Most people take magic for granted and that is their weakness. Magic is limited only by imagination and ambition, two things Stephen has in vast quantities.

So far, Stephen fits the evil Pureblood stereotype to a T, but Stephen is not a cartoon villain. He values blood, but not at the expense of new talent and individuality. Nor does he entertain thoughts of murdering muggles for fun. He may use people occasionallly, but he does like people in general and possesses a certain amount of charm which he uses on the opposite sex when he's not using it for more underhanded purposes. He enjoys stimulating conversation and a good game of Quodpot. He'd also happily chat about history into the twilight hours.

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History

The Notwoods are an old pureblood family. They are not necessarily the richest or the most powerful, but the name carries a certain amount of respectability. Cyrus Notwood, the current Patriarch, is very active in the Ministry without holding an elected office himself and is quite often at the ear of the Minister. His mother specializes in Magical Research and is quite well-known in that field. It should come as no surprise that Stephen's childhood was privileged and demanding. He was introduced to quite a few of his future classmates as a child and lectured on the importance of the family often enough that he should never forget it. He showed magical ability at an early age and he was pushed to develop it.

It was not without a certain amount of satisfaction that he finally departed for Magnus Grexx. It was everything he dreamed of: the history, the wonder, the innovation, excitement of so many people his age. It should come as no surprise he ended up in Arietem. Nor should it be any surprise that his influence has been felt in an increasing amount of ways over the years.

OOC

Do you know much about the Harry Potter Universe?:

A great deal

How often do you get online?:

At least a few times a day.
How often can we expect you to be able to post?:

At least once every two days.

Password:

Copper Cauldrons

So begins...

Stephen Notwood'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: Abraham Delavergne
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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: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne Character Portrait: Rose Aguilera 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
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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
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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
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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 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: Natalie Dumonte Character Portrait: Waylon W. Wolfsbach Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Isabella Gray Character Portrait: Gideon Caulfield
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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: Natalie Dumonte Character Portrait: Stephen Schwarz Character Portrait: Bobby Burkinson Character Portrait: Nora Selene Gray Character Portrait: Abraham Delavergne
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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: 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.”

cron