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Sweden vs Ireland; Year 4 - Day 16 - QWC - Day 4 - 12pm
Topic Started: Jan 17 2015, 01:49:26 PM (2,066 Views)
Antoine Belrose
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Antoine nodded. He narrowed his eyes and looked up. Of course he remembered DeWitt. "Yeah I remember him. Not easy to forget your competition." Antoine wasn't talking about the Tournament. Alex had been ruggedly good looking, in a way that Antoine never could be. Early on his relationship with Merida, Antoine realized that it would have been easier for Merida to have been with Alex, and on particularly bad nights... well, Antoine had pushed the thoughts from his head then. He'd do it again.

"You know Carmen I used to think that the world ran based on looks, you could get what you wanted if you pretty enough. Of course there would be exceptions. Then I thought the world looked down on those based on blood.But as I went through the Tournament, I realized that wasn't it. After all, there were three pureblood in the damn thing. Now I think it boils down to money." Who could pay off the under paid aurors. The ones who had too many mouths to feed but enough money.

"if we are to assume that money is what makes the world work, then Daisy's little uprising needs to be funded, how much can students actually hand over?" Antoine paused and rubbed his forehead.

"Without psychos like Daisy, there is absolutely no resistance to those who have the power. Those who rig children's games and make them deadly." Another pointed pause from Antoine. All he was doing was laying out the world around them.

"Yet just funding the Vox isn't enough, because then Daisy will go and 'uproot' innocent purebloods." Purebloods like Merida. Innocent children who hadn't done anything wrong. That was not what Antoine stood for. Not something he could condone.

Antoine looked back down from where Alex was flying. "If we make the right decisions it can make all the difference." His words were quiet and determined. Words not often spoken from Antoine.
I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me
and if it's any consulation I remember everything

And you can't take that, no you can't take that away .
You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away.
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Carmen Gray-Winters
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and I will take what is mine

Carmen blinked. Her heart sank into ice. Antoine didn't know what she and Rita knew; she didn't know about the blood that stained Daisy's hands. If he knew, what would he say? And worse yet, was that Carmen's secret to divulge? Carmen stared up at the sky, broomsticks glinting in the bright sunlight. “I think...” She knew that she had to choose her words carefully, but even then, it was difficult to speak over the well of emotions that was opening inside of her chest. “I'm sorry. I don't have any respect for Daisy Fitzroy.”

“There's a difference between being a revolutionary sign of change, and being another form of evil,” said Carmen quietly. “It's power that makes people hungry, I think. Money is a huge part, sure. But the power... the idea that the world could sit in the palm of your hands...” Carmen cleared her throat. “To people like us, it's a daunting idea. To someone like Daisy, it's all she wants. I don't think the Vox stands for good anymore, Antoine.”

This was awkward now. Antoine wanted to support Daisy, but... Vera. Vera Wickham was the girl who sliced Carmen with her own hands. She was the girl who would've strangled her own brother, Theodore. She was the blood of someone that Carmen had loved and, now, she was forever gone from this world because the fire in Daisy Fitzroy's eyes was burning out of control. “They're not reporting all the facts, Antoine. We can't trust anyone but ourselves, and good people, like Dave, and Merida. Do you understand?”

Carmen had no idea what to do. She had no idea where to start. All she knew was that she had to do something – and it couldn't involve Daisy.
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Long is the way
And hard, that out of Hell

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Antoine Belrose
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Antoine shook his head. Carmen had misunderstood him completely. "Good. It seems we are on the same path then. Daisy is crazy. Honestly I'm surprised she hasn't killed anyone yet in the name of her cause." Antoine was sure Carmen had forgotten about the first meeting between himself and Daisy. He hadn't, and if there was one thing true about Antoine it was that he held grudges. For years it seemed. "I would rather have my eyes gauged out..again then support Daisy." Antoine briefly touched his eyes remembering. Perhaps now Carmen would understand his dislike towards his classmate.

"Carmen they never have. The facts have never all been reported. I don't know what you know. Obviously, but Dammit Carmen, for this to work, for any of it to actually be more then words we have to communicate." Antoine rubbed his face. He was still exhausted from Iso's fits, and lack of sleep and worry over Merida.

What he wanted to do was bang his head off a wall, but instead he drew out his new wand and put a sound proof charm around the two. "Look, now no one can hear us. Tell me what you know, and from there we can start trying to fix it." Antoine turned and looked Carmen in face. Now was not the time to be a chicken.

"Merlin knows you are 800 times smarter than me when it comes to book smart, hell even street smart in some cases. Strategy for handling fucked up things, not really your strong point. I live in a constant state of screwed up events. Honestly, what else can a blind guy do?" Antoine smirked. He could do whatever anyone else could do, better then half of the others, but he was right, strategic planning was his area of expertise.
I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me
and if it's any consulation I remember everything

And you can't take that, no you can't take that away .
You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away.
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Belle D'Eisney
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Not Exactly Sure How She Ended Up Here

Belle D'Eisney wasn't exactly looking forward to the rest of the tournament. France had lost, unjustly in her opinion, to Japan. How could the country of her mother's birth possibly have lost? Belle blamed referee fiat, because there were plenty of fouls committed by the Japanese that went uncalled and unpunished.

The Netherlands, where she'd actually grown up, hadn't even qualified for the World Cup, so she was without a team to support. Normally, she'd support whichever team happened to beat her own, as it would be doubly shameful if the team her team lost to happened to also get beaten, but since the Japanese so obviously cheated, she was no longer interested in a tournament that didn't care about fairness and sportsmanship.

The only thing that was keeping her going at this point was Alexander DeWitt. Talk about your Swedish meatballs--DeWitt was a snack-and-a-half. She'd had a crush on him ever since the Triwizard Tournament. He was like something out of her dreams of gallant swashbucklers. He was worth at least two Errol Flynn in Robin Hoods any day.

I'm such a geek, she thought, but at least I'm a cute geek.

She made her way through the hustle and bustle of people, keeping an eye on the pitch for the start of the match and her first glimpse at the object of her unrequited love. Sigh. For him she wore a tank top and a skirt of middling length (she was never comfortable showing off too much skin) in the blue and yellow of the Swedish flag (she felt like wearing his number was being too much of a rabid fangirl, and that she ought to show some restraint). Her face looked like she'd spent a long time on it, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail (personally, she felt she looked better with her brown tresses flying free, but the winds in the quidditch stands tended to get high and she didn't think her hair would look nice smacking her in the face over and over). She was either going to impress whomever she met today, or make them jealous--that's how she saw it, anyway.

She found her seat next to a dark haired girl about her own age who seemed to be speaking Swedish to another girl who was younger. Belle didn't know Swedish, but Swedish and Dutch were both Germanic languages so she got the gist--especially as the girl mixed some English in there, with which Belle was proficient.

"Ja," she said, voice perky and chipper as she affirmed what the dark haired girl had said, "The only way Ireland could win is if the referee plays favorites as with yesterday."
Edited by Belle D'Eisney, Jan 26 2015, 08:14:48 PM.
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Fiona Finnigan
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Fiona had no idea what the girl was saying, in fact she had no bloody idea what language she was speaking! What was she saying about? Fiona tilted her head and stared at the girl, when she actually spoke in English though Fiona felt a tad bit confused as well. “What in flaming hell is a grata?” Fiona boldly asked with her accent getting stronger as her confusion became greater. But then it suddenly hit her what the girl was saying and Fiona stomped her feet.

“Ireland won’t lose!” Fiona stated as though it was a fact. But then another girl turned up and took a seat, agreeing with this other one for some reason. Fiona pouted, she crossed her arms firmly against her chest and shook her head. “Ireland have got as good a chance as Sweden.” Maybe the girl was speaking Swedish? But then this other girl had a different accent. Fiona looked between the two before turning back to the girl who had to be Swedish, her top suddenly jumped out at Fiona as though it was a blinking light.

“Yeah, Hogwarts through and through!” Fiona fist pumped at her words, almost jumping on the spot. “What are you two called anyway? I am Fiona Finnigan! Me dad works for the ministry.”

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Fiona Finnigan
Fifth Year
Prone to Explosions

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eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum...
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Melissa Levander
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Melissa laughed at the girl, she obviously blind by her own nationality. At least Melissa had the decency to look at the odds each team had and the player’s track records. She was pretty sure one of the Ireland players would give away far too many penalty shots. Sweden had the best chance, and that was confirmed as another girl stepped into the conversation. Melissa turned around and looked at whoever it was, she sounded so happy and upbeat. It was weird really. Melissa eyed the girl up before smirking and leaning out across the bars. “Even strangers agree with me, mycket små personen.” It was funny how the Hogwarts girl was reacting to her first language.

Fiona was her name then, and no wonder that she got good seats if her dad worked for the ministry. Melissa nodded slowly, she didn’t care all that much about the girl but at least she had a name for her now. “Melissa, Durmstrang student.” Melissa spoke with a harsh tone, she leant back from the stands and turned to look at this new girl.

“And you are?”
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Melissa Levander
Pureblood
Swedish
Durmstrang student


I know what I want
and I’ll get what I need

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Tom Riddle
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If the monster existed, it was buried deep within.

Once, Tom had read a quote that those who were destined for greatness could feel it in their bones, the way a pulse resonates within a heart. It remains silent, neither a whisper nor a scream but a simple intuition that the life of someone is destined to be more than the mundane lives of others, who Tom all regarded with some kind of morbid curiosity. His cold eyes, hardened like steel, watched crowds of children stumble over themselves with rosy-cheeked pride; Tom found his upper lip twisting into a sneer as they scrambled around his ankles like fleshy spiders, their arms and legs searching forward like heat-seeking missiles. Tom Riddle cleared his throat, took a purposeful step forward, and watched as they were eclipsed by his shadow, stretching long across the aisle in the afternoon sunlight.

Someone murmured, and Tom flashed his brilliant smile, a thousand stars in a sky of black. It was perfected, crafted from marble and smoother than a storm. Bending low, a mother picked up her waddling toddler from the aisle, promptly setting him against her ample hip. “So sorry, sir,” she said, and her accent was unfamiliar, although intriguing. Tom smiled again, nodding as he brushed past her; he could smell her perfume lingering in the air, a cloud following her movements. It reminded him of something sweet; it was something Rachel would choose. Tom cleared his throat again, his pace quickening. When he dared to look over his shoulder, the women was searching for a seat, her grip on her child vice-like, although he was sure she could not understand why.

Other people sensed greatness in Tom just as Tom had sensed it within himself. Grinning quietly, Tom slid into a seat. He found himself, by instinct, searching for Rachel and her mother's wildfire gaze, but this separation was a necessary evil. Their lingering tension in the air – muggy like a summer heat – was surely missed by Rachel, whose innocent doe-eyes would never be able to intuit something as subtle and back-handed. But Tom, of course, thought himself skilled in knowing what ticked beneath the thick skull of Jordanna Black. He prided himself on that.

His release from the Hogwarts staff was a particular decision on Dumbledore's part, although Tom had suspected its imminence. It hadn't quite hit his gut as perhaps Dumbledore thought it might; Tom silently smiled remembering the glittering of the old man's piercing eyes beneath his half-moon spectacles. That glance – one that Tom knew well – was inquisitive, but also knowing in a way that told Tom that Dumbledore always, always knew more than he would appear to let on. He was a man shrouded in mystery, and his gentle smile or the beads clanging from his beard only seemed to insist that he was kind in nature. Tom scoffed silently, to himself rather than anyone around him, for he knew Albus Dumbledore was more calculated than kind. His kindness was simply a convenient disguise.

But Tom would know all about disguises, wouldn't he? He smiled, finding it more interesting to watch others rather than watch the Quidditch game spiraling overhead. He noticed Rita Skeeter first, her cotton-candy hair a mass of platinum wires. Her pale face was accented by searching eyes, horn-rimmed glasses bedazzled to death with glistening gems. Tom, expressionless, watched as Ms. Skeeter removed her feathered quill from behind her ear and trudged over to a familiar profile, wiggling her body as she walked, purposeful and determined. Silently, Tom wondered how it felt to be so foolish, but he was never granted that privilege. Instead, he stood up, edging closer to the woman as she slipped into a seat occupied by none other than Miss Carmen Gray-Winters herself.

And Antoine. Ah, of course. The tributes had found their way back to each other; it was nearly romantic, wasn't it? Tom smirked, quietly taking a seat behind them. He strained his ears while trying to remain inconspicuous as possible, searching the skies for action as if he, too, was just another fan amidst a sea of excitement. Over the cheers and garble of unfamiliar faces, Tom could barely catch what Carmen was saying. She seemed to be speaking quietly as Rita left, indignant in her waddle.

Tom withdrew his wand – the Elder wand – and tapped Carmen's shoulder lightly with its tip. Just as quickly, he slipped his wand back into his shirt sleeve. As she turned, he watched her expression shift from curiosity, to shock, to a dangerous indifference. Tom's dazzling smile returned, eerie in a face now decidedly more pale and hollow.

“Always a pleasure, isn't it?”
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I will raise Hell.

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Carmen Gray-Winters
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and I will take what is mine

Carmen felt relief sigh from her body as she realized that she and Antoine were on the same page. It was more relieving than she could have imagined, but his words, though quiet and controlled, held truth. From this point on, no secrets could live between them if they wanted to continue what they had started. Stifling a smile as Antoine complimented her knowledge – for he rarely ever let anything remotely nice pass through his lips – Carmen sat up a little straighter, flushed with confidence.

“A blind guy can do a lot that others can't,” she said quietly. “And perhaps even more because people underestimate you.” She knew that it was time to divulge the secret that she had been harboring, but even now she felt its weight heavy on her shoulders. Carmen shuddered. “I'm sorry, I just...” She just what? She didn't know how to say that Vera Wickham had been murdered? She knew that no one would feel sympathy for a lost soul such as hers, even doubting that someone like Vera deserved it? But Carmen knew. Carmen knew because she had seen death and pain in the faces of those she loved – everyone deserved to find peace at the end of life. Even people like Vera Wickham.

“Vera Wi – ” Abruptly, Carmen felt a sharp tap on her shoulder. Spinning to look behind her, she was met with a familiar, and entirely unwelcome, sight. Tom Riddle's face was darkened by bruises, the paleness of his face startling. How long had he been sitting there? Carmen had not seen him since the conclusion of last year, but she was not without her suspicions when Tom was released from his position among the Hogwarts staff, but here he was. His gaze was cold, smile forced as it pierced Carmen like lightning. She shuddered in spite of herself, and Tom's smile twitched just a bit wider.

“Of course,” said Carmen, through pursed lips. “You remember Antoine, don't you, Tom?” Tom, not Mr. Riddle. She still winced at the memory that she could have ever allowed something like that to slip from her lips.

It was not that Tom was an inherently bad person; Carmen wasn't exactly sure that she believed him to be misguided or evil, but simply... strange? Something about his smile around Carmen made the hairs on the back of her neck shriek with panic. Something about the glint in his eyes worried Carmen, as if she harbored a gut feeling that he thought a lot more than he ever chose to say. Perhaps it was the Ravenclaw within Carmen; she sensed something about Tom's erudition that made him dangerous, and she couldn't quite pinpoint what or why. She just didn't want to make it obvious.

Silently, Carmen shot Antoine a look. Their conversation was to-be-continued; Antoine might blindly (no pun intended) assume that Tom Riddle was someone that they could trust, but Carmen simply had an intuition that begged her not to. “Enjoy the game, Tom.” She watched him carefully as his smile softened slightly. His eyes, startling, looked upwards towards the sky and Carmen turned around again, facing forward.

Her hands wrung themselves in her lap. She glanced at Antoine anxiously. “We can't talk here. It's...” Not safe. “I know a place called the Room of Requirement, and maybe you do, too. The first night back at the castle... we'll meet there.” Carmen's gaze followed Alex in the sky, spinning and practicing as music began to play, loud and full of bass. “Invite whoever, but make sure you can trust them. There's... something strange happening.”
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Auror | Training. Elementium.
Long is the way
And hard, that out of Hell

leads up to Light
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Antoine Belrose
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Antoine bit back the sigh that was close to escaping. "Good to see you again, Mr. Riddle." Antoine's tone had went back to calm, cool diplomatic voice he'd used with Rita. It was the only indication that Antoine had picked up on Carmen's hesitance and supported her decision to not include Tom in any of their plans.

"To loud to hear each other. I understand." Antoine gave Carmen the quickest wink and then nudged her with his elbow. A small smile playing at his lips.

"You're putting a damper on my raging party I was going to throw." Of course there wasn't one he was specifically planning, but if a party just happened to be going on...

Antoine nodded towards the sky, "You know it's expected we'll all do something great after we graduate. Alex is a pro quidditch player, and I'm pretty sure has ties to the ministry. Merida works as a specialized aurors now. Meanwhile I'm still not sure what I can, and want to do professionally." Antoine's topic change made the air just slightly less tense.
I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me
and if it's any consulation I remember everything

And you can't take that, no you can't take that away .
You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away.
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Belle D'Eisney
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Not Exactly Sure How She Ended Up Here

Belle stood up as she was addressed by this threateningly confident Swedish girl. The Durmstrang student's choice of words were at once strong yet dismissive, causing Belle to stand as high as her middling height would allow and held out her manicured hand to Melissa.

"Belle D'Eisney," she said, cute-but-sharp smile on her face, "I go to Beauxbatons."

The other girl, Fiona, was young, loud and excitable enough that Belle could easily write her off with a friendly smile, which she did. Obviously, she was going to support her home team. Melissa she found more interesting. With a twitch of her nose and a sharp stare she gave the Durmstrang girl the once-over, as she had done with Fiona, though for her the glance was almost insultingly dismissive as she regarded the younger Hogwarts girl as a non-threat.

She didn't include any boasts in her introduction, unlike Fiona who was already trying too hard with her "my dad's in the Ministry" talk. So what? Belle's mother fought and died for her country's ministry. Belle had long ago learned to just be proud of what her mother did. In any case, Belle's family had no connections. Behind her delicate facade lay a girl who had to work for whatever she got, and tickets to the World Cup had been no different. She'd saved up for years. That was something to boast about, in her mind--but she'd rather demonstrate the confidence that gave her than to toot her own horn like the loud little Irish girl.
Edited by Belle D'Eisney, Jan 26 2015, 08:04:18 PM.
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Imogen Nott
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Imogen walked through the stadium as she pushed her hair back from her face. The match was meant to start soon and she had decided that there was nothing much else to do. She had already walked around the fairgrounds with her cousin and she didn’t really intent to spend any more of the day with him. Imogen walked through the bottom part of the stands on her own, she wasn’t sure where to go and sit seeing as she didn’t want to go in the booth which her family were in.

It was still weird to think of them as her family, part of her wondered whether it was a good thing to live with them during the summer. Imogen shook off the thought and continued through the stalls, there was no point thinking about it now. Imogen scouted around for a good seat before ended up outside a sweet stand. She quickly changed direction sliding over to the stand and getting herself some snacks. It gave her a minute to think through where to head next, but by the time she got her items she was still unsure. Imogen sighed and turned continuing on through the stadium.
Posted ImageImogen Nott
Pureblood
Ravenclaw

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water elementium

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Carmen Gray-Winters
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and I will take what is mine

Damn, did Carmen know that feeling. Of course, Carmen's life was relatively cushiony. She looked at her family, their lineages tracing back through French pureblood families – the same families that likely despised people like unsuspecting Antoine Belrose. For Carmen, she had both the liberties and resources to do whatever her little heart desired. In many ways, it was just disgustingly unfair. What about people with no money? No connections? Hogwarts funded children with scholarships, but then what? What happened when the very last Sickle ran out? Carmen would never know what that meant, and she would never know the struggle of having to cultivate a name for yourself.

“I think I want to be an Auror, actually,” said Carmen casually, and it was the first time that she had actually mentioned it out loud. “I know that I've got the grades for it, and I know that I've got the temperament for it, you know? I've just heard the training is grueling, and that not many people make it out, I guess. But I've never been the kind of person to give up very easily, either.”

Carmen Gray-Winters: Auror. The thought was spectacular and, frankly, she didn't know what else she could possibly do with her life. “You could always teach, maybe,” said Carmen quickly. “My mom loves you, and she's a good reference to have. You could teach, like... I don't know, Arithmancy or something. You could teach 'How to Get Blind in 10 Easy Steps.'”

Carmen elbowed Antoine playfully, snickering like they used to, back before friendship was even an option. “How to Stay Alive: A Guide by Antoine Belrose. Rita Skeeter would eat that up, wouldn't she?”
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Long is the way
And hard, that out of Hell

leads up to Light
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Antoine Belrose
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Antoine nodded. "That was my original plan." He looked back up towards the skies. "You'll do just fine at it. Just fine." Antoine still hadn't gotten over the fact his dreams had been shattered, all his plans down the drain when he'd lost his eyesight.

Antoine chuckled at Carmen. "You think so?" He raised his eyebrows and ran a hand through his hair. "Part two: How to Gain Back Your Eyesight." He chuckled. Most of the time he was okay with what happened to him.

"Careful Carmen. That will be the title of the assigned for reading. " He threw his head back and laughed. The cocky laugh he'd once had. Women turned their heads, and few stared openly at the two students.

Antoine shook his head and then looked back out towards the crowds. Joke as much as they wanted, the reality was that Antoine felt he wasn't ever going to live up to expectations that everyone had for him. The problem was that Antoine was his own toughest critic.
I just wanna say, I remember conversations, before I gave up on me
and if it's any consulation I remember everything

And you can't take that, no you can't take that away .
You were the one who saved me, and you can't take that away.
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Gwen Montague
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[c]“You heard about that Italian school?”[/c] Gwen seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of Imogen, almost as though she had apparated right in front of her. It would have been possible though, seeing as they had taken their lessons during the hell that was Hellwarts. Gwen watched Imogen as her body seemed to freeze, it took her a few seconds to gain composure.

Gwen had read about it in the morning paper at first, but she didn’t need to look far when it came to information like that. All she needed to do was turn to her grandmother and watch the twisted smirk unravel from her face, which was when the information would be spilled. It felt weird that her grandmother expected the family to follow within her footsteps when it came to her alliance. Gwen was surprised that she hadn’t gotten Tobias to join the sons. Gwen felt as though she had heard far too much about that organisation for her liking. Not that she could actually say that out loud though.

“Yeah, I read it in the papers this morning.” Imogen spoke with a rushed tone, neither of them stopped walking though. The crowds would start yelling, and Gwen wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue. “First Vera, now this. I guess I shouldn’t have expected the games to go swimmingly.” Imogen joked. Gwen nodded her head quickly.

[c]“No one has seen that family since what happened. Not even my grandmother, and you know how much of a busy body she is.”[/c] Gwen heard Imogen snort. The two were different, Imogen was a lot nicer but they both had family issues which could be deemed unusual.

“It’s just gossip, nothing has actually been reported. I did see some weird Daisy related things at the fairgrounds though, I have a feeling Precious herself set that one up.” Imogen scoffed as she walked, Gwen just shrugged. She had never really liked Vera herself, nor had she actually liked her lackies. But it seemed as though over time a few of them had become nicer, Gwen herself didn’t know where she would be placed on the spectrum. But it wasn’t something she thought about endlessly, Gwen just did what she had to do and went with her gut. That was what was keeping her from making any rash decisions at that moment.

Maybe if she could pin something on this Vox hype then she could get away with some sweet revenge.

The two walked along side one another until Gwen stopped Imogen. [c]“Isn’t that Carmen and Frenchie over there?” [/c]Gwen asked nodding towards them.
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Full name: Gwendolyn Morgana Montague
Nickname(s): Gwen
Blood: Pureblood
Youngest of the Montague household

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we don’t fight fair

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Melissa Levander
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[c]“Fransk flicka eh?” [/c]Melissa asked as her head tilted, they were about the same height so Melissa didn’t have the luxury of looking down on this one. Not like she did with the pip-squeak to her left. [c]“Or maybe not? Anyone can so anywhere nowadays.”[/c] Melissa almost scoffed at that thought. She turned and looked out to the pitch as she wondered about the school being blown up, she hoped that they didn’t all get sent over to her own school. Half of them wouldn’t be able to cope. From what she heard that Italian school was on an island, it had a beach and mermaids and sounded pretty damn cushy to her. They wouldn’t last a minute in the pouring hails, they would bruise easily.

Melissa glanced over to the little Irish girl, she was now chatting to some other kid near her. Typical, people like her never had an attention span. They were unpredictable and usually pretty defensive, and boring as sin. Melissa rolled her eyes and turned to Belle, a girl who was far superior to whatever her name was over there. [c]“Well then Belle, I’m glad you know what team to support.”[/c] Melissa smirked.
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Melissa Levander
Pureblood
Swedish
Durmstrang student


I know what I want
and I’ll get what I need

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Imogen Nott
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Imogen looked over to Carmen and Antoine, they were both stood together speaking rapidly it seemed. Imogen hummed to herself as she observed them from afar, they were both chatting as though they were good friends. Although Imogen couldn’t remember the last time she had actually seen them speaking. Maybe it was during the tournament, and at that point they were meant to be mortal enemies. It was funny how two of the former triwizard contestants ended up transferring, and the other two found themselves at the castle more than most.

“It’s odd to see those two together isn’t it?” Gwen said crossing her arms in front of her chest. Imogen didn’t react to the question, she just watched as Carmen elbowed Antoine and laughed. Maybe this meant Imogen wouldn’t always have to be dragged everywhere anymore. The previous night had been hopeful seeing as Carmen wasn’t drinking, but the whole night had been Imogen being a third wheel. She didn’t like it. Imogen wasn’t the sort of person who enjoyed being dragged around everywhere, it was why she didn’t enjoy the company of her real family. She didn’t know how Ezra or Ronald handled being dragged to those parties and events and even having to dress in a certain type of way.

“Should we keep moving?” Imogen asked turning to walk away, Gwen raised her eyebrow and looked back to Carmen.

“I thought she was your friend.” Gwen asked trying not to smirk.

“She is,” Imogen glanced back to Carmen. “She is busy though, isn’t she? And she hasn’t noticed anyway.” Imogen shrugged.
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Pureblood
Ravenclaw

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water elementium

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Carmen Gray-Winters
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and I will take what is mine

Carmen smiled and, alongside Antoine, they settled into silence. It might have been comfortable, although Carmen thought that she could still feel Tom's eyes burning into the back of her neck. Almost like an instinct, Carmen found herself straightening her spine and clenching her jaw, hoping that Antoine wouldn't be able to see through the thin veil of laughter she disguised herself behind; it wouldn't be the first time that Antoine had seen Carmen upset or frustrated, and she was frustrated with herself, for she couldn't shake a sense of foreboding that accompanied being present at the game. Would the Vox strike again? Would it be Dolly this time? Would it be...

No, no. Carmen couldn't allow herself to think of that at a time like this. Carmen had met Elias: smart, kind, and genuine. But just thinking that Daisy Fitzroy could be dragging Theodore Wickham by a fistful of his hair made Carmen's stomach churn nastily.

Then, without warning, a great BOOM exploded in the air like the echo of a canon. The crowds shrieked, and from within the stands, seas of green began to chant, their chests rising and falling with vigor. Carmen's eyes widened as she turned to face Antoine, and she shrugged, smile still wide. Around them, Ireland's fans were frenzied, screaming and chanting as they held onto each other in waves. Carmen turned around to catch a glimpse of Tom's face; he looked utterly bored, and Carmen cackled. “Not a fan of the Irish, mate?” Carmen spun around and elbowed Antoine's side. “Top 'oh the mornin to ya! Am I awful at it? Tell me I'm not awful at being Irish!”

Just then, the boom rumbled like thunder and the skies opened to welcome showers of green stars, like fireworks. They scattered over the crowds. Carmen squealed as a pile of green glitter landed in her lap. Overhead, music was beginning to blast over the overzealous crowds, a whirlwind of flutes and pipes. From overhead, streaks of white, orange, and green began to paint the sky as each player spiraled forward, spinning like a bullet. Together, the Irish Quidditch team began to circle the stadium, and fans everywhere stood on their feet, stomping and dancing together.

Carmen could hardly hear Donatella Vercetti and her trusty co-host screeching in her microphone; the chants of the crowd were so loud, and the jig was so vibrant, that nearly everyone became intoxicated simply in its presence. Carmen wanted to get up and dance herself, although she had no idea how Irish people managed to move their feet so fast. Carmen would've broken an ankle by now.

Following the players, an enormous, glittering leprechaun, made entirely of glitter and fireworks, began to dance in the center of the stadium. His hands must have been the size of train cars; his feet, as they stomped through the air, looked like soaring airplanes. Carmen squealed in spite of herself, covering her face with her hands. Together, the Irish team circumvented the entire stadium. Together, their colors blended to form a giant Irish flag right before they zipped through the leprechaun's skull and he dissolved into small flickers of fireworks, exploding and then drifting away into the bright sky like embers.

The jig ended and, in the silence that followed, the crowd went absolutely mad. “My God,” muttered Carmen. “Why couldn't we have been born Irish?”
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Long is the way
And hard, that out of Hell

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Fiona Finnigan
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Fiona screamed like she had never screamed before, this was her team. Her birthplace and where she grew up, and she knew they had a good chance of winning this match. No, they had to win this match! Her father, mother and brother returned from the stadium food court and began to jump with her. Fiona bounced into her brother knocking him to the side, Dominic scoffed and shoved his sister back. Fiona ignored the pushing as her eyes lit up.

“COME ON O’BRIEN YOU CAN BLOODY WELL DO THIS!”

Fiona screamed as loud as she could, maybe she was deafening the two older students beside her. But she didn’t care, it wasn’t like she was going to see them again. Fiona looked at her father who was now doing his own version of the jig, as was those sat in the stalls below them. Fiona laughed throwing her head back and joining in. The energy could have lifted her up right into the sky and sent her flying off into the distance. Fireworks burst into the sky and Fiona stopped dancing, she just stared with a wide grin on her lips.

Her father pressed his hand to her shoulder, his other hand was on her brother’s. “I could never get tired o’ seeing them.” Seamus said with a small laugh. Fiona nodded her head, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the amazing fireworks and dancing leprechaun in front of her.

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Fiona Finnigan
Fifth Year
Prone to Explosions

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eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum...
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Gwen Montague
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“I guess she hasn’t.” Gwen glanced between them, was something going on there? Probably not, but Gwen didn’t care either way. The match was starting and she could hear the Irish music from where they were stood. As soon as it started the crowds around them began to pick up the pace, Gwen was lucky that she wasn’t dragged away in it all. Imogen seemed ready to bolt as well, but Gwen decided otherwise. Instead, she shoved through the crowd and towards Carmen and Antoine.

“Gwen where are you going?” Gwen could hear the distant yells of Imogen, she didn’t even bother looking back. Gwen jumped up onto the next floor and ducked under the chains that kept her from the stands. She looked down to the floor below her, it was lucky that there were some gaps in the stalls. If you stood in the right place you could see those hustling about below you by the stairs. Gwen raised her eyebrows and smirked at Imogen as she tried to pull herself up.

Gwen turned away though and grabbed a spot right next to Carmen. “I’m pretty sure Sasha has got the whole of Slytherin supporting Sweden.” Gwen quickly commented glancing at the blonde and brunette beside her. Imogen finally jumped next to her.

“You know we could have taken the stairs right?” Imogen almost laughed, Gwen turned to her friend and shrugged.

“I didn’t want to miss anything.” Gwen commented quickly turning back to the pitch.
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Full name: Gwendolyn Morgana Montague
Nickname(s): Gwen
Blood: Pureblood
Youngest of the Montague household

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we don’t fight fair

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Kyoko Mori
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I REFUSE TO BE FORGOTTEN

Kyoko stood next to the commentator’s box with a small blue book in her hands. Her fingers gripped on the edges of the book, her long nails dug into the pages. They were painted a block grey colour which shined against the bright lights around her. She wasn’t the only one waiting for an autograph but she was the one who was closest to the box. Kyoko could just about hear both Donatella and Eddie as they yelled out facts about the Irish team.

Maybe this wasn’t the exact job Kyoko wanted in her life, but it was a step in the right direction. And she admired both of the people in that box. It was one of the reasons she was actually happy to be at the Quidditch World Cup. Her eyes darted over the microphones and the smiles on their faces. Kyoko bit her lip and rose up onto the tips of her toes.

“And there is the iconic Leprechaun. Ireland use this every world cup as some sort of tradition!” Eddie called out, Kyoko felt as though she could be making notes. It was far more interesting than being sat in History of Magic. She would have done anything to speak to either of the just to ask about how they got into these jobs. Kyoko was going into her final year, and she knew she could probably get more advice from those two than any of her professors.
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Kyoko Mori
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Twin

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our names won't be remembered if we die like trampled flowers
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