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Sweden vs Ireland; Year 4 - Day 16 - QWC - Day 4 - 12pm
Topic Started: Jan 17 2015, 01:49:26 PM (2,064 Views)
Alice Rowle
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she is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness

Lips pursed into a thin line, Alice Rowle watched the Sweden versus Ireland match collapse into itself with a burning interest. Of all the matches she had attended, this one seemed to be the most belligerent. Most quidditch fans knew that if Alexander DeWitt was involved in a match, things were going to get colorful quickly. And as sure as night followed day, the players were beginning to collect personal vendettas like bounties.

She crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised as the banner feeds watched Alexander DeWitt like a hawk. He recovered from his crash landing rather quickly, and Alice almost felt herself cheering for him. She bit down on her lower lip, her face flushing scarlet. Why? Alice asked herself. Practically every girl in the stadium would willingly rip their clothes off for him. He had plenty to keep him occupied between his career and his not-so-stable relationship - or so as the tabloids reported.

Then, Alice saw a flash of red across the banners, and like a branding iron pressing into flesh, the symbol of the crimson fist was forever burned into her memory. Vox. Involuntary shudders rippled her spine. For reasons unknown, her left eye began to twitch with rage, as if her body was programmed to respond to the image, but her conscious mind could not fathom a reason to. Eerily, she felt a sick thirst to rip apart any crimson flag that fluttered in the wind.

"You asshole!" Alice mouthed to herself, praying that no one saw her. How could Alexander DeWitt ally himself with such an irresponsible and ruthless organization? Alice lowered herself onto her seat, her eyes glued to the ground as she attempted to catch her breath. Look at me. I act like I know him. Why do I feel like I know him? I've never met him before in my life.

But in her past life she had.
Posted Imagewhy should I apologize
for the monster I've become?
no one ever apologized for making me this way
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Camille Montague
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they lose their minds for us

The crimson banner wrapped around the boys bicep, it was a disappointment. Camille looked out to the match from her position near the door to the stands. She could see on the big screens that he was now whacking a bludger to another player. She puffed on the cigarette between her fingers as she began to wonder what her dear friend Annik would make of this display.

Surely she would be more worried about her dead granddaughter, but a betrayal from a grandson could be like losing another grandchild. Camille was thankful that her own grandchildren weren’t this much hassle. It was a shame, but everyone had their own family issues. Camille turned her back on the doors to the stands and walked down the steps. She stormed along the bottom before turning to walk up another pair of stairs. A gang of Carmichael children were littered around her own granddaughter.

“Gwendolyn, where is Tobias?” Camille asked her granddaughter, who seemed to roll her eyes. It was the usual response. Imogen Nott, a girl who had grown up in an orphanage, seemed as though she was just about ready to run. Camille turned back to her granddaughter though, who was staring at the match.

“I don’t know. I’d assume back at the tent gran.” Gwen spoke with her mind obviously on the match. Camille looked to the pitch and watched her.

“After the match we need to chat, I won’t drag you away from this.” Camille muttered with a sense of distaste. She dropped her cigarette to the ground and stamped it out before turning and walking away from the group.
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Camille Montague
Pureblood
Head of the Montague Household

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Amaranthine Sisterhood
we don’t fight fair
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Emma Gray
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I SEE A BAD MOON RISING

Emma Gray's eyes were narrowed behind thick sunglasses, her only defense from a crippling hangover that sent her right back into the tumultuous years of her youth. She recalled, faintly, how powerful she had felt quietly navigating family parties at the Chevalier manor, Lola Dior stapled to Emma's side. The girls had gigged into champagne flutes at barely thirteen, enjoying the way it made their heads feel bubbly and as light as a feather, as if they were just balloons seconds from drifting away with a breeze. On those following mornings, the girls had woken up brazen, with bright eyes and steel stomachs.

This morning was quite different. Emma was not thirteen anymore; though her youthful face had deceived many a young man, she was slowly nearing forty. The wrinkles by her eyes as she smiled betrayed her secret. Glaring behind her sunglasses, the headache pounding through Em's skull was only aggravated by the stomps and cheers of a Quidditch rampage. Why am I here? The entire thought made her feel stricken by both nausea and anxiety. Emma struggled just sitting still knowing that her heart was ready to burst in her chest, careening like a train running straight off its tracks. She stuck it out for Poppy's sake.

Poppy was cheering along with her young cousins and Emma's cousin, Titine. On Emma's other side, Orion Black had found them, and was cheering alongside everyone else. Occasionally, he'd lean forward to catch Poppy's eye and they would cheer together, lost in a world of their own entirely. Emma leaned back. If Grant was here, he would have thoroughly enjoyed seeing his fellow Auror, Orion, throw away the facade of a tough Ministry man. Among them, Orion was giddy, perhaps intoxicated by the idea of being able to act like a father towards a girl as fresh-faced and sweet as little Poppy Gray-Winters.

But Emma had no time for it. Her mouth was dry. Her palms were clammy. Seeing Alexander DeWitt in the stadium, bleeding, reminded her only of the Triwizard Tournament; it reminded her of a time when not only was her daughter up for slaughter for the sake of Hogwarts glory, but she was forced to swallow the gore and trauma of everything that had happened that year. Emma felt helpless against the tides of anxiety that were rising, threatening to swallow her. She felt simply unprepared for what life had put into her lap.

Perhaps she shouldn't have had kids at all. Perhaps it was her that should have gone missing, not Tris. Perhaps it was Emma that should have perished in the war, not those countless innocent faces that fought valiantly to restore a world back to order. It was the very world that was still burning in flames; the only difference was that now, only she could see them.

“Are you okay?” muttered Orion, leaning in close to Emma's ear. Consolingly, still smiling, he put a hand on her knee and patted, much like her own father would have done, had she known him well.

Emma lowered her sunglasses. Her tired, bleary eyes looked into his. “Perfect.” Like clockwork, Emma hid beneath her glasses once again and turned back to the game, her stomach churning in disgust. In the hectic moments that followed, many things were unbearable for Emma Gray. She could not decide which was exactly the worst because none of them could pierce her armor just quite.

One: Alexander spiraled into the stands, and Emma's stomach sank low. It probably sank through the floor, but she was distracted by Poppy, who cried out in dismay. Anxiety called Emma into action. Immediately, her arms were wrapped around her daughter's shoulders. “There, there,” said Emma softly, and Poppy clapped her hands over her mouth, shocked still as they all watched Alex rise, flames of vengeance burning behind his eyes. Emma let go of her daughter and stared up at the projection of Alex, as shocked and quiet as everyone else around her.

Two: Alex was bleeding. Flashes of the tournament played before Emma's eyes as if she was reliving them; she remembered the painful things, like the way the air smelled during their final task. She remembered the way the scent of smoke forever lingers on your clothes, as if the ash itself weaves between the fabric of every single item you own. Emma couldn't even scrub it from her skin. She remembered how it felt to stumble around the castle blindly, her mind exhausted. She could hear Addie's laughter echoing from the corridors. She could feel Precious Hindert – not Wickham or Lestrange – glaring at the back of her head. She could feel Hellius Surla clutching the back of her neck. She could see their ghosts around every corner until, sweating and shaking, she somehow ended up in front of the door to Dave McKelvey's office, helpless.

Three: There was a flash of red, the image of a fist, and Alex DeWitt was off. Poppy's finger pointed towards the sky. “Isn't that the same thing from the other day?” said Poppy, amazed. “You know, that super secret thing that I shouldn't have blurted out in front of people? Aren't those the people responsible for.... that?”

Vera Wickham was dead. She was as dead as Emma's mother. She was as dead as Grant Winters. She was as dead as... everyone. And the Vox was responsible.

Was it vengeance? What reason did DeWitt have to wear such a symbol? “It's foolish,” she said, her voice powerful. Orion glanced at her, hesitant of the anger that was trembling, begging to escape Emma. “He doesn't know a damn thing.” These children were not martyrs, they were children playing the game of adults – they had been given a cleansed life, and they only sought to destroy it surely. Emma's generation had died in order to save Alex's, and they were burning it to the ground.

And the Vox was just a pawn in that game.

“LOOK! THE SNITCH!” yelled Poppy excitedly, and she stood up, cheering. Titine, her aunt, stood up alongside her. Titine's step-sons, both young children, swung their feet back and forth and clapped their hands. Emma could feel Orion staring at her sadly before he, too, rose to his feet and cheered on Ireland.

“I'm done,” mumbled Emma, both to no one and everyone.
Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
And I'm
not
forgiving

I'm such
a fool to
pay this
price

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Herbology Professor | Plant Elementium
Former Deputy Head | Mother | #firstgen
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Kenna Holly
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Firebird

Kenna cheered loudly as she watched from the stands, gasping and yelling at every possible chance. That was, until Dewitt was hit with a bludger. Of course, that wasn't what stopped her mad excitement. It was the flash of red banner wrapped around his arm when he rejoined the game. Eyes darting around quickly, she hopped no aurors had seen the banner. Steadying her breathing, Kenna quickly stood up and made her ways to the bathrooms. Red. The red banner. She knew she couldn't try to forget it, or hide from the fact that she had once worn that banner, but she couldn't handle seeing it.

Grasping on to the bathroom sink, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed up nicely, with thin layers of makeup, and no pimples. But that wasn't what made her wince at her reflection. It was the heavy bags under her eyes. Taking a moment to steady herself, Kenna started walking back up the stands towards her seat.
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Addie Lumineux
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"Want to take a walk, in that case?" A soft, weary voice spoke from behind Emma Gray and her family.

It'd been a long while since Addie had been able to see Emma, or any of her friends from Hogwarts. After the battle she'd thrown herself into her work, focused on eradicating any remnants of the Knights of Walpurgis. She'd even had the satisfaction of hunting down Jeremiah Svalbard, her mother's murderer.

And here she was, all these years later at a Quidditch World Cup. Everywhere she looked she could see the chaos Azariah caused at the last World Cup she'd attended... With Tristan, and her parents. She could see her mother crumpling to the ground in front of her, see Tristan, not long before he was kidnapped.

They'd never found him. She'd made it her mission, and still, there was nothing to show for it. Emma wasn't the only one seeing ghosts.
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Emma Gray
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I SEE A BAD MOON RISING

The voice that gently caught Emma's interest was familiar and comforting, and it came directly from the deepest recesses of Emma's memories. It was a voice she had heard in her mind, often when she needed to convince herself of her wavering strength. Now, Emma's frown twitched slightly as she spun in her seat, not quite daring to believe what she had heard. Surely, somehow, her mind had descended into utter madness. Somehow, she was really beginning to hear things, and even in the Wizarding world, that wasn't a good sign.

But Ms. Addie Lumineux never disappointed. Even from behind her sunglasses, Addie was beautiful, as if no time had passed between them and their days trudging through the corridors of Hogwarts as students. The only hints of their age rested in their tired eyes and weary smiles, as if time was a heavy burden that they winced beneath. Emma rose from her seat, nearly desperate to hold onto the girl she knew, the woman that she had named her firstborn child after; this was exactly what Emma needed to will strength back into her bending spine. She needed a reason to keep going and it was smiling exhaustedly right behind her, hair still that familiar shade of gold and eyes still gentle but piercing.

Emma had known Addie was busy, respecting it just the same. Their occasional Christmas cards were treats, and occasionally, Grant had mentioned seeing her and sending his regards at the Ministry. Grant, too, had gone to school with them so many years ago... although Emma pushed that thought from her mind before her throat constricted and her eyes began to burn again. Instead, Emma pushed her glasses away from her face. In spite of herself, she beamed.

"If it isn't the Light whisperer in the flesh," teased Em, and though it felt awkward to hug over their seats, Emma reached for Addie's hand and squeezed it. "I can't believe it. Can you even believe it?" Emma looked around them, amazed. How much time had passed? The years felt thick and so impossible to navigate through; it was like being stuck in cement. "You have impeccable timing. But I'm sure you already knew that."

"Ah, Ms. Lumineux! A pleasure, as usual," came Orion's booming voice. He stood, moved to shake Addie's hand, and then returned to his seat, sitting up a little straighter. As an Auror, Emma knew him to be fierce. As a person, Emma knew him to be a great, giant and very drunk teddy bear. His demeanor around Addie made Emma chuckle slightly.

"Oh! Poppy, look. This is my friend, Addie."

Poppy Gray-Winters was a fifteen year old girl with an unusual smile. She seemed both simultaneously young and old; there was something strange about her as she stood, scanning Addie's face knowingly. "I remember the stories. Not Adeline, not Adelaide, just Addie. My big sister is named after you!"

"She sure is," Emma smiled, and Poppy sat back down, eyes on the game. "And you remember Titine, don't you?" Beside Poppy, Emma's cousin waved sweetly in that same airy way she always did. Emma supposed being the Headmistress of Beauxbatons had its perks, and one of them was constantly being able to wave like a contestant competing for a beauty queen title.

"A pleasure," called Titine over the roaring crowd, right before she glanced at one of her rowdy stepsons and stopped him from throwing himself off his chair, towards the stadium. Emma snickered, glancing back at Addie. So much time had passed; Emma and Titine had families and Lord, was it exhausting.

But even though so much time had passed, Emma very suddenly felt still seventeen. She smiled at her old friend, cheeks flushed as anxiety gently faded away. "How are you?"
Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
And I'm
not
forgiving

I'm such
a fool to
pay this
price

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Herbology Professor | Plant Elementium
Former Deputy Head | Mother | #firstgen
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Antoine Belrose
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Antoine watched as Alex fell, Antoine's hands folded in front of himself and he stared with such intensity that it was ridiculous. He let out his breath he'd been holding and then he saw the hankerchef.

Anger bubbled up in Antoine. He'd forgotten Carmen was sitting next to him, and Antoine pushed himself up, french curse words tumbling from his lips. This 2 as the most ridiculous thing he could see happen. Daisy wanted people like Alex dead. Didn't he see that?

"You are smarter than that Alex." To an outsider it looked like Antoine was upset about the play. Instead he was very much upset by The Vox. "She'll kill you dead, Alex. I know she will." Antoine still hadn't remembered he was next to Carmen until he shook his head, and saw her.

Antoine started to apologize, and then he quit. There was nothing left to apologize for. Except cursing, and forgetting where he was. And not answering Carmen's questions. "Sorry."
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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Addie Lumineux
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Addie had her lengthy hair pulled back into a high ponytail, her slender frame draped in a set of navy robes. She wasn't wearing anything to affiliate her with any particular team, she hadn't been able to muster up enough energy to care.

The tired young woman smiled gently as her best friend turned to face her, heart leaping as the other woman's face lit up. It was nice to know that despite their infrequent communication over the years they were still friends. It was a thought that had gnawed at Addie over the years, a deep-seeded loneliness that seemed irreparable.

But maybe, just maybe, there were still people out there who counted her among their friends.

"Oh, don't call me that," Addie murmured, rolling her eyes and laughing softly as Emma beamed at her, giving her hand a tight squeeze. Emma was as gorgeous as she'd always been and just as youthful looking, besides the heaviness residing in her eyes. It was a look Addie knew well.

"It's difficult, but I knew I'd be seeing you soon." She grinned faintly as Emma mentioned her impeccable timing. That wasn't one she quite agreed with. She'd done what she could to support her friend after Grant's death, but as far as she was concerned it wasn't enough.

Soon Addie's attention was captured by the rest of Emma's party. "Hello, Orion," Addie smiled amicably, shaking the fellow auror's hand as he rose to greet her. She watched him return to his seat and turned her attention to Poppy, smiling at the younger girl. "Just Addie, that's right," the young woman chuckled, nodding and waving politely to Titine.

"Speaking of Carmen, where is she anyway?" Out of Emma's children, Addie was most familiar with her first born daughter. The girl that was named after her and who, curiously enough, had ended up with the light elementus.

Interesting how things work sometimes.

Addie hadn't spent much time with Carmen, but she'd received her fair share of owls from the girl regarding their shared elementium. She'd always enjoyed receiving these letters, it helped to relieve the hole filled by the family she'd never gotten the chance to have.

"I'm alright, how about you, miss I'm done." Addie smiled gently, looking over her friend with a critical eye.
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Rosalita Carmichael
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i'm a wildflower, growing in the sunshine

Lita leaned forward in her seat, watching the game with only a mild interest. Catching the Snitch was always the most important part of the game. This would be the moment splattered across Prophet pages and Lita wouldn't allow herself to miss it just because Wyatt was throwing a supreme baby temper tantrum.

Just as quickly, the Irish Seeker was darting towards the ground too fast. She winced, pulling herself up from her downward spiral just before she dramatically crashed into the ground – the crowd all, collectively, shuddered – and the Snitch darted off, unseen.

“Oooohhhhh, a true shame. Davin returns to the air – the Snitch is off on its own again,” said Eddie, sighing loudly. “A relief for Sweden!”

Lita rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat. “You guys didn't bet on this game, did you?”

“Define bet,” grinned Wyatt.

“Isn't that illegal?” wondered Olivia.

“Shhhhh,” smirked Lita, returning her attention to the game. “The only bet I would have made is whether or not DeWitt would die today.”
You know my name. You probably know my story, too.
Daughter of Violet Sparks | Niece of Tinsley Carmichael | You can call me Jenn

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And I can't change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to

Lita Carmichael
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Emma Gray
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I SEE A BAD MOON RISING

Emma smiled at the mention of her younger daughter, so like her mother that it was frightening at best. “Carmen's a lone wolf,” said Emma, shrugging her shoulders breezily. “She's probably with some friends. Heard her singing to high heaven this morning so at least she's in a good mood. Those are rare.” Sitting, Poppy giggled at the mention of Carmen's singing, and Emma rolled her eyes. “She's a typical seventeen-year-old, or at least as typical as she can be. Right?”

Overhead, the ooh's of the game barely even caught Emma's attention. She was determined to drown them out. Somehow, every joyous roar of the crowd became murderous. Every crack of the Bludger against the Beater's bat was a skull being crushed under the weight of a fallen pillar; every laughter was something horrible and forced. Determinedly ignoring the game was Emma's only choice but, now, she felt anxious to leave and force everything from her mind.

“I'm spectacular,” said Emma monotonously. She rolled her eyes, frowning. “Utterly brilliant. I'm sure you heard, but Tinsley not only named me her bridesmaid, but her Maid of Honor. I didn't even bother going to the wedding, but Carmen told me it was lovely. She actually said lovely out loud. She even said Tinsley cried. What the actual... heck?” Emma only corrected her language because Poppy was within earshot, although she had already heard her mother curse violently dozens of other times.

“Really spectacular,” repeated Emma again, sighing. “What brings you here? Let me guess. It has something to do with the stunt those kids pulled yesterday.”
Ariella - Sirius - Emma - Tinsley - And More
And I'm
not
forgiving

I'm such
a fool to
pay this
price

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Herbology Professor | Plant Elementium
Former Deputy Head | Mother | #firstgen
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Carmen Gray-Winters
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and I will take what is mine

Carmen couldn't bring herself to say anything. She only placed her hand on Antoine's shoulder and stared at the sky, finding it difficult to swallow around the heaviness that had settled inside of her. She knew that Alex had to have a motive for his actions – he never worked mindlessly – but how could he justify such an action? The Vox. Carmen scoffed. There was nothing legitimate to their voice; Daisy was the one who had tried to recruit Carmen and, in the process, had dragged Dolores Draper to the forest. What would Daisy have done with her, then? Carmen could vividly remember the way Dolly's hair had been mussed, tangled with dirt and leaves from the forest's floor. She remembered how her lipstick had been smeared up the side of her face and, in the shadows, how Daisy's smile had gleamed nastily. Unhinged.

So what was going on in Alex's mind? Was he under the Imperius curse? Why hadn't he mentioned things sooner, when he, Dolores and Carmen had been together? That evening was hazy thanks to alcohol, and Carmen joined Antoine, cursing under her breath. Somehow, cursing felt much more relieving when in French; Carmen used her throat to spit them out, accent thick with hatred. She shook her head, feeling somehow betrayed, even if she didn't quite have a reason to. Women like Vera Wickham maybe, in some horrible way, deserved the fates they had been handed. The Wickham family was not saintly.

But her life was a life, and Carmen couldn't champion to save others while she watched others pass. In order for any progress to be made in their world, every life had to be respected: not just the lives of purebloods, and not just the lives of the lower classes. Every life was worth protecting.

Even Daisy's. Carmen sighed. Rotting away in Azkaban was a far nastier sentence than death. Death, to most people, would be a reprieve from those crumbling, cold walls.

“Don't apologize,” said Carmen then, her voice stern. Carmen glanced behind her and noticed, with a shudder, that Tom Riddle was gone. Finally, Carmen leaned closer to Antoine, whispering quickly. The truth needed to be revealed.

Gwen and Imogen knew, of course, but Carmen didn't need them to know that she was running around telling everyone about Vera's death... especially if the Prophet and Ministry were still diligently investigating and ignoring its occurrence. Carmen might have trusted Imogen, but Gwen was uncharted territory. Min was not one to play haphazardly with her chances.

She knew that, perhaps, Gwen and Imogen would have a few things to say about Carmen pressing her lips to Antoine's ear, but both Carmen and Antoine knew better. And, frankly, if Carmen's reputation as “boy crazy” could distract some people from the true intention of their conversation, she wasn't entirely against welcoming it.

“Vera Wickham is dead and it was the Vox who did it,” she whispered. “Not everyone knows yet. Don't you think it's a little odd that Alex would support the murder of his own cousin? She wasn't a saint, Antoine, but she didn't deserve to die, either.” And that was all. Carmen leaned back in her seat and sighed, absentmindedly tracing a faint scar across her cheek. It had happened so long ago that Carmen had forgotten about it, and magic had done a fine job of covering the scar so heavily that it seemed that only Carmen could see it.

Vera's knife had spilled Carmen's blood but still, somehow, Carmen felt compassion rise within her, curious and frightening.
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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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Imogen Nott
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Imogen watched as Camille Montague walked back down the steps, her eyes searched the woman who was more curious and frightening than anything else. Imogen had only become friends with Gwen because her aunt and Gwen’s grandmother seemed to be friends. Her aunt’s friends were the main reason she had begun to speak to people like Ariella and Gwen. While speaking to people like Monica and Carmen reminded her of the past. Imogen felt as though she was stuck in the middle of everything, seeing Alex out there with a Vox bandana around his arm was almost like a symbol. He was the past with Triwizard Tournament, and the now was the Vox and its sudden presence at the games.

It made her nervous, her eyes flickered to Gwen and then to those around her. Faces had dropped, those around her knew what it meant. But then there were others screaming for joy, excited by what was happening and how the match was progressing. Imogen needed to splash some water on her face, her eyes darted to a nearby bottle of water. She froze, if only no one was around. Imogen stepped back. “I think I’m going to go to the toilets.” Imogen turned and smiled at Gwen, who just nodded her head. Imogen quickly pushed past those around her yelling out a few apologies as she walked down the steps and into the nearest toilets. It was no surprise that the place stunk. She walked to the mirror and stared into it, she searched it for signs of anyone else in there but there was no one.

Imogen turned on the tap and pushed her hands under the cool water catching it within her hand and letting it float. She moved her hand up to her face and dabbed the large water particle onto her face. Almost like a towel. She sighed to herself, Imogen didn’t know where she fit in and it was beginning to get on her nerves.
Posted ImageImogen Nott
Pureblood
Ravenclaw

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water elementium

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Alice Rowle
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she is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness

People stared when Alice walked, as if she were a ghost that had returned to haunt them. It nearly drove her to the verge of insanity. Why are you looking at me? Look alive. She paced herself, one foot in front of the other, her eyes turned upwards as she progressed further into the stadium, away from the pitch and her unsatisfying hurt. Did she have something on her face? Alice was a few tiers away from a panic attack. If she didn't look perfect, how would people know that she was amazing? Alice frowned to herself.

That wasn't a usual thought.

When did her self-esteem rocket to unreachable heights? She felt as if she had forcibly climbed herself onto a pedestal: Amazing Alice. Yet, most of the Hogwarts students present couldn't give a damn about her story. The Salem girls only clicked their sharp tongues and rolled their blue eyes at her betrayal. Amazing fucking Alice left Salem for Hogwarts. Who did she think she was? A traitor.

Alice ducked into the woman's toilets, her stomach knotted with uncertainty. The room stunk of a faint urine odor, haphazardly masked by a pungent chlorine. The concrete floors were littered with puddles of - Alice hoped - beer. She stopped short at the sight of blonde girl at the sink. And then something strange happened.

A grin curled onto Alice's glossy lips and she felt a strange warmth sweep over her chest. She felt like she knew the girl personally. An old friend? Alice could swear she had never seen her in her life, but the memory was there, almost like an elusive kite string. Who was she? What had she done? Alice's tongue tied into a ball. Strangers usually didn't approach each other in the restroom.

"You're really pretty," Alice blurted, instantly regretting it. She inhaled deeply and looked into her own reflection in the mirror. "Sorry. I just needed to say that."
Posted Imagewhy should I apologize
for the monster I've become?
no one ever apologized for making me this way
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Imogen Nott
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Imogen allowed the water within her hand to drip through her fingers and back into the sink below her. She let out a small sigh as she pressed her hand onto her forehead, it cooled her down more than she could have imagined it would. Her hand slowly moved up from her forehead to push her hair back from her face, she opened her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror. Dominos had been falling left right and centre, but none of them had fallen in line. No one could predict the next move but that wasn’t uncommon in the wizarding world. Imogen quickly lowered her hand as the door slammed behind her

Imogen glanced over to the woman who had walked in and flashed her a smile before she turned back to the mirror. It took her a moment to realise that the girl was speaking to her, Imogen’s eyebrows raised curiously before she turned and looked at the girl who was now standing next to her. They stood in a similar position, the smile on Imogen’s lips widened. “Thanks,” Imogen smiled wider. “Don’t be sorry. I think you’re really pretty too.” Imogen didn’t need to give out fake compliments, she wasn’t like her aunt. Imogen actually meant it.

“It’s mental out there, I’m kind of surprised it’s so quiet in here.” Imogen turned back to look at herself in the mirror, she wiped little bits of mascara from below her eyes. “I’m Imogen, by the way.” She looked into the mirror and wondered whether she could face going out there and joining the crowd once more. Quidditch was fun to watch of course, but Imogen had other things on her mind and she couldn’t quite work out where it stemmed from.
Posted ImageImogen Nott
Pureblood
Ravenclaw

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water elementium

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Melissa Levander
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Belle’s words had almost fallen on deaf ears as the game had finally begun. Melissa and her brothers screamed for Alexander and the Swedish team. Their home country. [c]“Kom igen Sverige!” [/c]Melissa yelled out to the crowd as she clapped for her team, her face scrunched up into a scowl as Ireland scored and she could hardly look at the little pipsqueak and her family who were screaming next to her. They may have scored the first goal, but that didn’t mean shit.

“I’m glad you’re supporting the right team Belle!” Hugo yelled over the crowd as Elias laughed. The two twins began to cheer even louder, Melissa ignored her little brothers and kept herself focused on the match. They had to win this.

[c]“Få tillbaka på din kvast!”[/c] Melissa yelled as one of the Swedish chasers fell backwards and seemingly off her broom. But she managed to pull herself back onto her broom which incited an even louder cheer from the crowds around her. And then the referee decided that it was a foul! Melissa groaned loudly and angrily as the medics flew out to check whether the Irish player was alright. But in the blink of an eye Alexander was spinning out of control, Hugo and Elias were pushing at their foreheads and yelling out Swedish swear words for all to hear. Melissa was just frozen on the spot as she watched the match take place, it was more than dramatic and Melissa usually didn’t have such reactions to sports. But it was a fellow student out there, she felt obliged to cheer for him as she never got the chance during the Triwizard tournament.

And then a bludger went straight into the face of one of the Ireland beaters, blood rained from her face and Melissa smirked. [c]“Det mĺste göra ont.”[/c] She snickered. The snitch flew out to play and Melissa gripped onto the rails in front of her, if Sweden could just grab it they would win!
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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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Pat McPhee
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Pat had wandered towards the back of the stands at the well sought after Quidditch game between Ireland and Sweden, he took a seat contemplating which team he should support. Some had said he had looked Swedish in the past with his blonde hair and blue eyes, so he was slightly leaning towards that, however being from England, he also felt some connection to the Irish. Not being sure, Pat decided to stay quiet and watch the game as a neutral, keeping an eye on every bit of action as it went on throughout the fast-paced game he had always enjoyed to watch, much more than studying.

"Sweden or Ireland, Sweden or Ireland" He muttered to himself, whilst at the same time being weary of anyone hearing him. Pat after all was a shy individual to strangers but a boisterous and loud one to those who did, for now he was being more like the former.

It was whilst this time of contemplation was going on for Pat his eyes were averted to another part of the stand, a group of, what looked like fellow students of Hogwarts, also enjoying the game. He watched for a while, averted his eyes, then looked back again to see what this unfamiliar group was doing. Instead of joining the group, Pat decided to sit back, put his feet up and watch both the spectacle of sport before him, but the group of young adults he had not seen before as well.
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Gwen Montague
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Gwen turned around the watched as her grandmother ran off down the steps, and before she could even make a comment Imogen had decided to run off to the loos. Gwen rolled her eyes and turned back to the match which as taking place, it was mental out there. The cheers were deafening and the energy was outrageous, although Gwen was more concerned with where she would go after this. Did she find her grandmother or go looking for the tent, Gwen hoped the girl she had ‘hired’ would be able to find something out before the end of the match.

Suddenly her eyes flickered to where a fellow Slytherin was, Gwen moved around the stands to get closer to him. “Pat?!” She called out furrowing her eyebrows and watching him, he was sat down and didn’t seem to be joining the crowd. “Come up here!” Gwen needed someone else for company, and it seemed as though he needed some company as well.

Quidditch matches were always turned boring when you went to them alone.
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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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Pat McPhee
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Dozing in and out of the flurry of the fast-paced game, whilst at the same time watching the supporters in the areas around him, Pat heard a familiar yet still somehow unfamiliar voice beckon his name over the harsh noise of the crowd, it appeared to have come from the group his eyes had previously been averted to after he had entered the stands within the crowd.

"Pat?!" His ears pricked up and he looked around to see whom was calling his name, he hadn't made many friends during his time at Hogwarts, although those he did make were very close to him. However Pat was one of those who believed that once you were part of the famous wizarding school, nearly everyone knew each and every name of their student counterparts.

Pat looked around, back towards where he was previously and his eyes caught that of a fellow Slytherin coming through the crowd, this had to be who was calling his name. "Come up here!" Indeed it was the fellow member of Hogwarts' famous green house calling him. He sat forward slightly and stared, whilst saying to himself "Ah that's that Gwen girl!", much to the confusion to the supporter sitting next to him, who gave the blonde haired boy an odd sideways stare in response to his outburst to himself.

Shaking his head in response to the supporter next to him, Pat stood up and waved at the fellow Slytherin, slightly out of character for the shy young man but perhaps the crowd and spectacle all around him had got to him and caused him to want some company at the intense event. He had usually gone to Quidditch games in the past with his very sporting father, this was his first one on his own. He cautiously made his way down to where the girl had called him from in the stands and greeted her.

"Hi, I saw you shouting my name, it's Gwen right?"
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Gwen Montague
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Gwen turned back to the match and watched the players swerving around the pitch, she waited for Pat to approach her before saying anything else. “Yeah, Gwen it is.” She commented nodded her head and then turning back to the match. She gasped as she looked out onto the pitch.

Hugo Larsson had the quaffle now, he was speeding through the Ireland chasers. At the same time Emilia Svenson, one of the Swedish beaters, smacked the bludger towards the seeker who was darting around by the Ireland goals. The Irish keeper, Saoirse Gallagher, turned to yell at Ava to tell her what was happening. The seeker managed to get out of the way, but in the meantime Hugo Larsson threw the quaffle at the goals.

“GOAL FOR SWEDEN!” Eddie screamed into the microphone.

Sweden: 10
Ireland: 10


Gwen didn’t know whether she should be cheering or booing, so she just clapped. It was a good strategy. “Who are you supporting?” Gwen asked glancing to Pat and then back to the match, fans were screaming and jumping around in the stands around them. It was like she was watching the sea, but the sea had some blocks of yellow within 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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Antoine Belrose
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Antoine's eyes darted towards the other two girls who sat by them. As much as Antoine thought of Alex as competition, Antoine was sure that Merida saw Carmen as close to the same. This little stunt of whispering in his ear was drawing more attention from the people around them. Taking a deep breath Antoine listened to what Carmen was saying.

Antoine's eyes focused on Alex. His words returning to his native tongue. "Si Vera est mort peut-être qu'ils utilisent Alex pour se rendre à sa famille. Antoine's voice was low and quiet but he was trying to figure out Daisy's next move. "Peut-être cibler la sœur d'Alex? Antoine looked towards where the Swedish fans sat cheering the game on. Oblivious towards anyone and everything going on around them, except for the game.

"Carmen, le Vox se infiltrera familles de sang-pur par les enfants qui ne croient pas dans les moyens de leurs parents ... et de se débarrasser de ceux qui font des racines. Ceux tel que Vera?" Antoine turned towards Carmen, his eyebrows raised. He was honestly asking Carmen. It wasn't as if Daisy had ever approached him. Which was probably for the best considering how well they got along.

"Who all knows?" Finally back to a language those around them could understand.
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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