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Sweden vs Japan: Quidditch World Cup Final; Year 4 - Day 16 - QWC - Day 6 - 12pm
Topic Started: Feb 16 2015, 05:22:29 PM (2,469 Views)
Stephanie McKenna
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Minister for Magic

Stephanie tapped her foot as the ministry employees dispersed throughout the stadium, leaving her alone with Marigold and the referee to await the arrival of the Swedish minister. The search effort was bound to take the better part of an hour, and the crowd was already becoming restless, but Stephanie did not care. She would not place anything above the safety of her subjects.

The other minister, on the other hand...

"That's Minister McKenna, even to you, Minister DeWitt. Have you forgotten that we're still in the United Kingdom?" she challenged the man. The Swedish minister had become increasingly heavy-handed in the planning of the tournament as the final approached, and Stephanie couldn't help but suspect ulterior motives, especially after what had just happened.

"Madam Minister," Hastings addressed her respectfully as he took his place at her side. She turned to him with raised eyebrows. "A member of the rebel group had broken into the minister's box, but disapparated before we could apprehend him."

Stephanie attempted to maintain her composure as she turned back to face Booker. "A member of the rebel group is found in your box while your son parades around the pitch with one of their flags. Is there something I should be made aware of, Minister?" Stephanie inquired. Making a direct accusation toward a fellow head of state would be foolhardy, so she chose her words carefully. "Or perhaps you think that this 'Vox' madness is all a joke so much that you'd be willing to risk the safety of everyone in the stadium to finish this silly game."

She crossed her arms. The time to be diplomatic had long passed.

"I feel you have crossed a line, Minister. It is not your place to make such decisions, and your son's involvement only serves to make things worse. What is the meaning of it all?"
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Ariella de Pointe du Lac
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A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

Hangovers can really fuck with a person.

For instance, one can find themselves waking up much later than intended, wrapped around cotton sheets like a human tent. Ioanna had already abandoned the tent, leaving only a small note on her pretty, pressed bedsheets. Ariella watched it from across the room, groaning at the sun streaming against her face. She had only wanted to nap after searching the world anxiously for Billie; surely, she thought, she wouldn't doze off for longer than an hour.

Daylight was slapping Ariella awake as the afternoon crept on. The morning felt like a distant memory despite being only hours before. Ariella's skull, thick with lead, was throbbing. Distantly, Ariella heard the roar of the Quidditch Pitch – oh, right. The final game. Shit. Damn. Wow. Okay. But still, her legs would not move.

Ariella struggled to free herself from her tangle of sheets, grumbling under her breath. Her body was sore or, at least, sorer than she thought it would be. She hadn't even done anything that wild except for, of course... Ariella winced, body condemning her to reassess her actions. Where her back had pressed against the bark of a tree were small scratches across Ariella's back. Her tailbone, which had sunk into the hard earth, was screaming protests as Ariella forced herself to sit up.

Would there ever be a time when she didn't wake up sore?

Cursing, Ariella hopped out of bed, wincing against the sunlight. She didn't even glance at Ioanna's note, though she was sure its intentions were pure, all neat cursive and looping o's and a's. Ariella couldn't be bothered. She barely glanced at the mirror they had propped up against the tent wall before she slipped out of the tent, still in her pajamas.

She stretched, like a cat, and glared up at the sun. Couldn't you just, like, stop being so bright for one second, please? Just one. That's all it takes.

That's when she noticed the voices of the announcers grow more agitated, louder than even the roars of the crowd. A hush had descended upon the grounds – no, that wasn't one announcer's voice, it was a woman's voice – then – Ariella spun on her heels, watching as the horrified ones left behind to sleep away the final Quidditch game dodged into their tents, pulling the flaps closed hastily. Ariella's heart jumped into her throat as she did the same, but only for a moment.

Haphazardly, she began tossing clothes around the room, muttering like a madwoman. She slipped into the quickest thing she could find. As she shimmied jean shorts over her hips, she heard the hiss of an announcer – the voices were muffled through the walls of the tent, but someone else was speaking now, their voice different from the fierce rumble of Daisy fucking Fitzroy –

Damn it. Can't she just stop? Ariella hurried to Ioanna's bed, where a neat little note sat, folded in half. Ariella turned it over in her hands.

At the game. See you soon! – Io

Ariella's mind worked slowly, like grinding gears snapping under pressure. Ioanna. Vox. Daisy. Arena. Now. Breathless, Ariella rushed forward, arms pumping at her sides. She heard voices, both familiar and unfamiliar and, finally, the mention of Minister McKenna.

God, thought Ariella, heaving great breaths as she emerged onto the Quidditch stadium stands. I sleep for two friggen hours and the world goes to shit again.

Immediately, Ariella began to search the crowds for a glimpse of Ioanna's face. The Aurors around Ariella were not impressed. Feeling nervous, Ariella lowered herself into the nearest seat.

“What's going on?” she asked aloud, to anyone in particular. But how could anyone have answers?
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Booker DeWitt
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THE FALSE PROPHET

Booker was not accustomed to being snapped at, much less by a woman. He feigned politeness, but underneath his iron skin a storm of fury brewed and rolled through his veins. He could feel the cameras aimed at his back. Booker remained stoic, his gaze never drifting from the warning glare that emitted from Minister McKenna's eyes. Friendliness was a tactic that obviously did not work with McKenna, and so Booker realized that he would have to attempt a different approach.

He rubbed his hands on his suit and cleared his throat. Well, the Minister of France was much nicer, and she had even allowed him to buy her a drink. Most women submitted to his gaze. "Minister," Booker tried again, attempting to remain levelheaded as McKenna humiliated him in front of their subordinates. Timothy's mocking smile was pressing a bruise into Booker's ego.

"My son's involvement in this anarchist group was a rather jolting announcement. I wasn't aware of his alliance," Booker paused to glance briefly at the handsome, blonde boy raising himself from the bench, bewilderment etched on his face. Carefully, Booker directed his attention back to McKenna. "As you can imagine, I am as deeply shocked and horrified as you are. As a father - and a fellow Minister - I am thoroughly disappointed."

He quieted for a few seconds, the grumble of the crowd filling their silence. Booker felt as if he were treading on thin ice, and McKenna's involvement only thinned the layer. "The incident in my suite was only a coincidence. A child, not much younger than my son, took it upon himself to infiltrate security. I was harassed with threats, but upon a reliable band of aurors, was able to quell him before he could escalate to violence. I was forced to leave the room before I could see the final outcome."

Booker, now glowing with confidence, straightened his spine and smiled handsomely. "I was doing my best to contain the panic, Minister. The public's very worried about these anarchists. You and I both know that the public's safety is of the utmost concern." He thought back to the first day in office, pride and glory building a concrete foundation for corruption. Sure, he cared about the public, but only because the public kept him in power.

"Japan's Minister is absent. Respectfully, there was a need to garner some control of the situation until you arrived."
Posted ImageHouse DeWitt | "Ours is the fury." | Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

Booker Jackson DeWitt. Swedish Minister of Magic. Unloyal husband to Lucy. Padre of Alexander and Sasha.
Son of Sicily. Don.


"There are no men like me. Only me."
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Merida Gottlieb
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Merida's belly had turned to lead at McKenna's order. What, precisely, was the punishment for ignoring the Minister for Magic's direct request? She would lose her job, without a doubt. Would it be worse than that, though? Treasonous? Merida had others to think about. Iso, Antoine... Alexander DeWitt was a ghost from Merida's past, and she did not owe him anything. Only her life.

When Merida approached Alexander DeWitt, it was alone. It had been years since she had stood face to face with the man, but the bonds joining them had been welded together with dragon's fire.

"What have you done, Alex?" Merida chastised, her tone soft. It was rhetorical, of course, "I've been sent to arrest you." Not that she had much intent to do so. Everything depended on him, and how he reacted. Merida wasn't sure what she needed from Alex, but knew that she would help him without asking any questions whatsoever. Alexander DeWitt wasn't the sort of person who would ask for help knowing that it would put someone else in danger.
Edited by Merida Gottlieb, Mar 6 2015, 09:46:12 PM.
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Alexander DeWitt
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J A E G E R

In the center of the storm, Alexander DeWitt remained a pillar. At unease, he roused himself from the bench, the mere sight of his father launching his stomach into a ricocheting tumble. What was he doing out there? And more importantly, how was Alexander going to explain himself to his father? To the Ministry? They were, without a doubt, going to detain him for his questionable actions, and Alexander was prepared to defend himself by claiming civil disobedience.

Alexander watched curiously as his father, the Swedish Minister for Magic, breached contact with Britain's Minister. It was almost like watching a battle: Two worlds, one power. Alexander remembered McKenna's visit to the Swedish Ministry briefly several years ago. They had attended an elaborate dinner and Alexander witnessed the brilliant personality McKenna possessed - his mother wouldn't stop talking about her for days. And now, years later, she stood there, as still as stone, unaffected by Minister DeWitt's charm.

And then it dawned on Alexander that in the United Kingdom, his father held virtually no power. His influence could dissuade officials, but there was nothing he could do to postpone the detainment. Dread flooded Alexander as he realized that his glory hour was over. How could it be? Alexander only wanted to play - while simultaneously voicing his concern over societal inequities - and bring the gold home. Was this what it meant to be a martyr?

Alexander looked at Merida Gottlieb and felt a fury of nostalgia grip his heart. They had always sat together at meals in Durmstrang, their witty banter flirting with the prospect of more than friends. Alexander felt as if he could really connect to her, as they were both Russian-born and had an affinity for quidditch. Their time during the Triwizard Tournament had strengthened their connection. Sister not by blood, but by bond. They went through auror training together. She stayed, but he left to persue a career in quidditch. And now?

He refused to defy her. He accepted his consequences. He was aware of what he was getting himself into. Alexander stepped forward, both of his fists held outward as he invited Merida to arrest him. "It's only fair," he said, shrugging his burly shoulders. The corners of his lips curled. "Don't make the chains too tight."
Posted ImageAlexander Raleigh DeWitt
House DeWitt | "Ours is the fury." | Falmouth Falcons
| VOX POPULI | MEN OF MAYHEM | HOGWARTS ORIGINAL |



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Carmen Gray-Winters
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and I will take what is mine

My mother's mouth was nothing but a stern line, exhaustion quivering in her weak bones. I knew her once to be stronger than this – than the woman standing before me, a vision in powder blue. The wheat curls that frame her sharp, jutting jawline are things that she gifted to me, but she has also given me her fear. I feel it quiet, slinking up my arms like some insidious shadow winding around my wrists, tighter than any silver shackle. Her fear sleeps inside of her, swirling like panic in her chest, crumbling like ash does after flames falter.

She has given me these things and I live with them, alongside the knowledge that I must, somehow, find the strength that she once had. I heard that it existed once – like a memory, like a vision from a past life, I heard that my mother was a warrior. She wore the scars of her battle in the smudge of her lipstick on the glass rim of her wine glasses. Her armour was chinked, silver in need of polish, but it existed. In my heart, I struggle to find the woman that she was and, somehow, make sense of it, for that is not who I intend to become.

It's silly, really, how our conceptions of family and what it means to be alive can become skewed over time. Surely, this is the moment that my mother would scream, her voice shrill just before she toppled a chair – Aunt Addie would shake her head, unable to find her voice to reprimand a woman fully capable of knowing better. No, I will not accept those actions as just or right simply because they have come from my mother – my heart, my soul, the love of my life but the woman who, without a doubt, has been broken for as long as I have known her.


Carmen stood still, feeling the wind blow past her flushed face. Things were happening quickly. If she wanted to somehow make things right, time was slipping away from her like water trickling through cupped palms. Carefully, Carmen avoided catching Addie's gaze. She glanced over her shoulder to her mother, who was now smiling as Orion filled her glass to the brim. Poppy was shaking, nothing but a trembling bird in a blizzard. Sorrow tugged at Carmen's heart before she inhaled deeply. Her mind had been set before she even realized.

That's the difference between my mother and I. She forgets that she was young once, too – young and breathless, captivated by the wild pull that sent her barreling through life. My mother was a fierce bullet, unyielding before she pierced skin. Somehow, along the road of her life, my mother lost the spark that had ignited behind her watery blue eyes. That blue – deep, dark blue – was dull now, the glimmer dull. Whatever made her strong vanished into the air. When a woman tries to carry the world of the universe on her back, she must eventually stumble. How could a woman so quick-witted find herself so... lost?

Carmen said nothing. She couldn't. She simply stepped away from the bannister and turned. Quietly but swiftly, she stepped back and began walking towards the exit. Her breathing remained steady; Carmen did not dare make any noise. She was silent, a shadow walking among them...

“Carmen,” said Poppy suddenly. “Where are you going?”

Emma looked up from the bar over her glass. Her expression was utterly enigmatic, a puzzle to which Carmen had no pieces. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Carmen turned away, wordlessly. To strangle out the words would have been more difficult – no, she couldn't even think of what to say. Instead, she pushed herself free of the VIP box, brushing past the Aurors stationed outside. Eyes focused on the ground, Carmen began to rush down the long, winding corridor. Stairs. I need to get to the stairs. I need to get to the Quidditch Pitch

When she reached the landing, the sun's blinding rage was a flash of white. Carmen squinted against it, eyes on the field of pristine green shimmering miles beneath her. Flooding the goal posts were tiny colored dots. Carmen looked down, exhaled deeply, and began to take the stairs two by two. As fast as her small frame would fly, Carmen descended, hand on the slick railing so that she would not trip. Faster and faster she rushed, sweat pooling at her temples. Her hair was clinging to the back of her neck as she rushed forward, unsure that she could stop even if she wanted to. The air in her lungs came in quick heaves, so quick that Carmen felt as if she might never be able to draw a full inhale again –

Her mind, dizzy, felt drunk. With a squeak, Carmen jumped the last three steps and stood on sturdy, but trembling, legs. She was met with a slinky protective barrier, holding back the spectators from reaching the field. No one sat this low to the ground, of course. The stadium seats were all dreadfully empty; the arena itself expanded high into the sky, towering above them like glittering jewels. But from here, down on the ground, the air felt less muggy. Finally, Carmen was able to breathe.

You see, maybe that's the problem with my mother. Emma Gray was never able to forgive – not her first love, for leaving her breathless and aching. Not my father, for leaving her, even if he hadn't chosen that for himself. Most of all, above all else, she could not forgive herself. Never herself.

Her eyes blinked back burning tears. Carmen slipped beneath the bars that separated the final stadium seating from the grass beneath; she squeaked again as she toppled to the ground, landing with a thud. The earth coughed up dust from the impact. Squinting, Carmen could see Minister McKenna closer now. Aurors were distracted by her presence, ominous and imposing. She stood beside Minister DeWitt. Together, their facial expressions were inscrutable, the careful masks politicians were forced to protect.

Where would Alex be? The benches. The game. The team. She should have felt fear, or at least reproach. She should have regretted coming down here, seeking someone who had never been her family, no matter how hard anyone wanted to pretend. But her mother's words... they rang in her ears, listless echoes. Carmen would not accept them. She would not become hardened to love. Not now. Not ever.

In the distance, Carmen saw Merida and Alex from afar, standing alone near the bench. They appeared to be speaking until Alex... extended his fists, motioning for Merida to –

“No,” whispered Carmen, but she couldn't bring herself to move, or speak. She knew it was right. Alex had made a crucial mistake. But looking across the field, Carmen did not see Alexander DeWitt, Quidditch star of the century and sudden Vox disaster martyr. She saw Alex, all burly shoulders, broad jaw and gleaming eyes. She saw Alexander DeWitt, a vision of unwavering strength, the Durmstrang champion who had threatened to steal that Triwizard Tournament cup from her greedy grasp. She saw Alexander and Merida, brother and sister, bonded not by blood, but by choice.

That made all the difference. Carmen swallowed a lump in her throat, finally realizing that her hands were shaking. She hadn't thought to say anything. She hadn't come here with any intentions. She just...

Perhaps she wanted to see it for herself. Perhaps she thought it would be like the movies, and Alexander would look over at Carmen and nod. Carmen knew that she wouldn't unless she moved, but her legs felt helpless beneath her. She knew that this was ugly. Merida's face, expressionless, stared into Alexander's as if searching for the answers she would never have the opportunity to ask.

I wanted to call out to him – tell him to run, to never look back, but destruction was written in his DNA. I stood, watching the strength he had worked so hard to cultivate slink from his shoulders. I swore I could feel his bones breaking under the strength of her gaze. I wanted to run to him, beg him to stay strong – for everyone, not just himself – but I couldn't. My eyes burned. I remembered the Alexander DeWitt who comforted me in Theodore's absences. I remembered Alexander DeWitt, the one who, one day, learned to trust me. And I trusted him. I trusted him with my life.

Finally, Carmen screamed, in spite of herself. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called until it echoed, scratching her throat on its way out. It took her a moment to realize what she had been repeating: his name, just his name.
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Merida Gottlieb
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Merida exhaled in distaste at Alexander's display, "Don't be so melodramatic." This hurt. Her eyebrows fixed into a harsh decline, one twitched subtly from the tension. Now was not the time for joking. There was a time she would have taken Alex's bait unquestioningly; the curve at his lips a captivating invitation at normalcy. Things could have been alright, for a moment. She had no comfort to offer in this regard. Not to him, not to herself. Merida was not the same as she once had been. Neither of them were.

If Alex was not going to fight his fate, then she had no right to argue with him.

"I only pull out chains on special occasions." Would Alexander be punished for the crimes of the Vox? Merida would prefer to believe the Minister simply wanted a statement. The Ministry needed a win, however, and DeWitt seemed a far too willing scapegoat.

A firm hand fixed on Alex's shoulder.

It was chance that Merida cast one last wary glance across the pitch before apparating her captive away from the pitch. Carmen's shrill cries were barely audible, but Merida strained to hear them even after the intended recipient became clear. Merida's mouth set into a hard line, and she shook off her memories like a bad dream. The former Durmstrang tributes vanished from the pitch with a loud crack. There was no glory in this, only pain. If Merida had learned anything from the tournament, it was that there was very little glory to be had in this world.
Edited by Merida Gottlieb, Mar 7 2015, 01:28:03 AM.
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Stephanie McKenna
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Minister for Magic

"It looks like the ministers are cooperating to make sure the rest of the match can go on without a hitch, but... is that an auror approaching the Swedish bench?" Donatella's voice boomed through the stadium once again.

"It is, Donna! I've just got word from a ministry official that they're doing a complete sweep of the stadium before the game can continue. I've been told to ask everyone to please remain in their seats and follow the aurors' instructions. As for the Swedish players..."

"No!"

"...it appears that Alexander DeWitt is being placed under arrest!"


Stephanie's body became tense as the gaze of thousands became focused on her and the Swedish minister, and before long, cries of objection and booing began to fill the stadium. Stephanie turned her head to look toward Merida and the minister's son, but only just managed to catch sight of the pair disapparating from the field.

"Wait a minute... something isn't right..."

Stephanie turned to her escorts. "Hastings?" she addressed the more senior of her two bodyguards. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is it not against protocol for an auror to make an arrest without backup?" she asked. A look of sudden understanding flushed across the man's face.

"Yes, Madam Minister," he answered.

"Well then, see to it that Auror Gottlieb has some backup at the stockade and have Mr. DeWitt brought to me. If they are not there, report back to me immediately," Stephanie commanded, and without objection this time, Hastings disapparated in search of Merida and Alex. As much as Stephanie was at the end of her patience, she knew it would be unwise to go against the crowd.
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Dave McKelvey Jr.
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We're fragile. Wish I'd have known.

Dave could hardly believe what was happening. He'd been sitting in a random box away from his family, having wanted to just get away from the drama that came with his usual crowd to enjoy the game. Now he, like nearly everyone else, was on his feet, leaning against the barrier at the front of the box in order to look down on what was happening on the field.

"This is bullshit!" a man's voice came from the back of the box as Alex DeWitt was carted from the field by an auror, prompting a flurry of sneers and boos from the crowd. Dave and the people around him joined in.

"He didn't even do anything! It's all a publicity stunt!" another voice said, and Dave couldn't disagree. The news of Vera's death had been a shocking development, but in his mind, Daisy and her band of troublemakers were just that: troublemakers. He still couldn't believe that they had the capacity to commit murder

"What's that boy's name again? We need him on the field if the game's going to continue!" someone asked.

"It's Alex. Alex DeWitt," Dave finally spoke up as he turned to the man.

"Well then, we want Alex! Come on chaps! We need to make our voice heard!" the man announced to those around him. The large glass in the stranger's hand meant that he was likely drunk, but Dave could appreciate the man's competitive determination. "Alex! Alex! Alex!" the man chanted, and soon, the rest of the box joined in, Dave included.
Dave McKelvey Jr. - Dave McKelvey - Charlotte McKelvey - Morgan McKelvey
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Ariella de Pointe du Lac
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A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

Chants resonated from above Ariella, sweeping across the crowd. Idiots, she thought, remembering the pale white of Vera's hair, like winter. Ariella's fists clenched and she stood, chest heaving. A mother and her child, seated beside her, looked up; they recognized her for a moment, jaw agape with wonder, and then they stuttered for her to sit. The woman's voice sounded like a plea, worried, but Ariella wasn't sure who she was worried for. Ariella tilted her face against the sun, squinting at the glinting boxes that curved upwards, with the stadium. Would it take long?

Ariella hurried. Her feet ascended the stairs two by two, heels digging into the sturdy metal of the stadium. Fuck the railing, she thought, arms pumping at her sides. She, somehow, kept her balance as she hurried up each set of stairs. Every breath she took felt like a flame igniting in her chest. Her inhales were coming quicker now, and she wondered if she would even have time to breathe at all.

Finally, heaving and choking on her own spit, Ariella stepped onto another landing and bent over, clutching her chest. She hadn't ran that hard since... Ariella frowned, glancing back towards the pitch, where the cheers of the crowd were now rippling through the air all around her. Their voices were a chorus of demands, each plea resounding. Ariella shuddered, glancing down just before she slowly began to climb the stairs, wondering which seating box to enter...

Then she looked down, at the crowd. Men were chanting, their calloused fists ripping into their palms. Sweden. Ariella stepped down the stairs quietly, watching the way their faces changed from handsome to stung, swarmed by their fury. Ours is the fury. Ariella remembered Sasha and felt frozen, rooted to the spot. She wished they'd stop yelling. She wished they'd...

A flash of crimson caught Ariella's eye. When one of the men leaned back, smiling excitedly, she saw that it was Dave.

“Dave!” Her voice came out a squeak. She chastised herself for being foolish. Of course he couldn't hear her. Even if he could, why would he? Why? Ariella spun on her heel, and –
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James Potter
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well my heart is gold and my hands are cold

Bloody hell, woman! Watch where you're going! There's a revolution happening!” James Potter nearly rammed into Ariella from behind. He grinned widely, dark eyebrows arched. He was alone, which was unusual. Something also flashed across his eyes: he looked nervous. Ariella saw it for a moment before James quickly smiled, smug and self-important. “Honestly, woman, sometimes I think that you would get lost in a bathroom. Aren't you hungover?”

“I've slept a total of two hours,” said Ariella, her stomach now churning. It felt like a hurricane threatening to swirl up all the food that she hadn't eaten.

“Right. Were you up daydreaming of Dave? Holding your pillow a little tight – ”

“Shove off,” snapped Ariella. “Definitely not. In fact, I'm looking for my sister. Apparently, today is National Every Girl Goes Missing Day, and all anyone from Sweden is worried about is protecting sociopath Vox members.”

“He did try to smother us with a flag, too,” said James thoughtfully.

“A flag? What the – how did he get a – ”

“Never mind how he got the flag. It jumped on top of everyone like this giant, overgrown red bat,” said James. He was still smirking. “Where were you, hmm?”

“Sorry, I was too busy summoning Satan,” replied Ariella, growing irritated with his knowing glances. Did Dave tell him? No. Of course not. Of course...

“Ah! That's a relief. I love a woman who can really get down with the occult,” said James sarcastically. “So, do you need a knight in shining aluminum foil to help you find Ioanna? I've been searching for Dave and Remus and Sirius, but – ”

Wordlessly, Ariella pointed into the crowd, towards Dave. James cackled. “Are you stalking him, then?”

Ariella grew flushed. “He's not exactly difficult to miss!”

James ignored her shrill voice. Instead, he began to wriggle through the crowd, pulling Ariella behind him. They were entangled with everyone shouting – James began to shout with them – and very suddenly, Ariella began to grow dizzy. She could swear that she could feel blackness prickling her eyes...

“You should've eaten something, stupid,” James said. He had turned, noticing the paleness of Ariella's cheeks. “You're looking more and more like your sister with every inch. C'mon. Sorry, sir – sorry – yes, I know I'm blocking your view – no, I do not want to die today, actually, I enjoy my life very much – listen, sir! This is Tinsley Carmichael's daughter, also the daughter of Ian de Pointe du Lac, the Dread Pirate – are you sure you want to drown today?”

Everyone grew quiet. Ariella smiled shakily just as James let go of her and cupped his mouth. “DAVE! CLAW! YOU MASSIVE IDIOT, GET OVER HERE!”
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Antoine Belrose
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After a morning searching in woods the search party had been sent away. Already aggravated Antoine hadn't been sure if he should come to the game, but Iso had insisted, and so here he was with a bouncing ball of energy sitting in between him and where Merida had previously been.

Antoine sighed aggravated that yet again Iso was here in the magical world when the Vox decided to be dicks. As soon as Merida went to the pitch Antoine's cousin was scooting and pushing and crawling to get where Merida was.

"Fuck." Just as quick Antoine moved through the thinning crowd out onto the pitch. Out in the distance he spotted Iso standing by Carmen. Two blondes side by side.

Alex was being arrested, in a cruel twist of fate, by Merida. "Isobella..." Antoine's voice was more then a breath released when he saw what was happening. There would be no way he could have arrested Lunette. None, he would take whatever the punishment was. It was questionable if he'd be able to arrest Alex.

Iso's tiny hand reached up and grabbed Carmen's. The little girl had tears streaming down her face with the same look of horror that matched the older children there. In a couple steps Antoine numbly made his way to the two girls. Reaching down Antoine scooped Iso up into his arms. It was just in time to see Merida cuff Alex and disappear. "Tony, why does Merida have to go? Where are they taking that man?" Iso's child innocence peaking through.

The crowd broke out in an Alex chant, and Antoine turned towards Carmen, at a loss for what to do. What could they do? Surely, there had to be something besides just stand around. Iso wiggled her way out of her cousin's arms and down onto the ground. Antoine just made sure he had a hold of her hand.
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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Camille Montague
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they lose their minds for us

Camille sipped on her wine as the event right outside of their booth unfolded in an unusual way. She watched as the Minister spoke with the Swedish Minister, Booker DeWitt. A man who Camille thought should not be trusted. His demeanour said it all really. Camille watched from her chair, as it seemed his son was going to be arrested. A blonde girl tumbled onto the field and was now standing at the side of the pitch, this was getting juicier by the second. From the corner of her eye she noticed another blonde girl attempting to leave the room. “And where are you going?” Camille called out to Imogen Nott.

“I need to get Carmen.” Imogen called out as her hand grabbed the door. Camille shook her head.

“No one should leave the room.” She commanded, turning to look directly at the girl. It was clear to see she was a Nott child. Imogen turned back and stared at them.

“Let her go, she’ll be back.” Isabella suddenly spoke, giving Imogen the opportunity to flee the room. Camille turned back to Isabella and raised her eyebrow. Isabella just shrugged. “She isn’t my daughter, if she gets into too much trouble she won’t be welcome at my home again.” Isabella sternly said. Camille smirked sipping her wine as she turned back to what was happening on the pitch. The deafening chants of Alex made both the Ministers look foolish. It was a lot more entertaining than watching the actual match.
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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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Elisamarie Cummingham
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Ree didn't wait for Jason to go after Emily. In all the chaos that was sure to be a conversation that the couple would have later. Reaching through the many bodies Ree finally made her way to the bathroom.

Pushing the door open Ree saw Emily. Who was covered in water and crying. Instantly Ree's body flooded with concern over the girl. Whatever water had been left on poor Emily's face had rolled down her cheeks and collected in a small puddle that stayed floating.

"What happened?" The water was slowly drifting towards the floor, but Ree paid it no mind. Her powers always going hand in hand with her emotions. "The Vox didn't hurt you did they?" Ree reached out and touched Emily's arm. The Hufflepuff's face showed nothing but concern.

Ree walked over to the door and locked it. No one could get in now. There wasn't a chance in the world that Ree would let Emily keep hurting. Someone had to do something.
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Sasha DeWitt
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WARRIOR GODDESS

"ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX!"

Sasha knew she was the loudest among the crowd, all strength and pride and fury, nostrils flared, spit spewing from her mouth as she roared so passionately she feared her lungs would collapse. She clutched Alexander's jersey against her chest, despair and disappointment swallowing her heart whole. Beside her, a collection of Dumstrang friends proudly waved the Swedish flag, their chants melting in with the rest of the stadium's.

"ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX! ALEX!"

As she raged, her eyes fell upon the sight of her father on the field. Charming, handsome, silver-tongued Minister DeWitt. Sasha loved him intensely, but she didn't love the person he had become over the course of his term in office. At school, she was often the subject of torment from the purebloods, harassed because they believed her father had bought his way into his position. If it were true or not, Sasha knew that she would continue to love her father unconditionally.

Behind her, Sasha's mother, Lucy DeWitt wept for her son. He had always been an exceptional boy, and to learn of his involvement with the anarchists was a stinging slap to the face. As much as Sasha wanted to be disappointed in her brother, a part of her felt pride for him to continue to stick to his beliefs and to bravely defy the crowds. Regardless, the world continued to adore him.

"BRING HIM HOOOOOOOOOME!"
House DeWitt | "Ours is the fury." | Slytherin Team Captain
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Emily Pemberly
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put on your doll faces

Emily heard the door open behind her and in the mirror she saw Elisamarie rush into the room. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror as the water dripped off her chin. Ree’s question was laced with concern, and all Emily could do in the moment was slowly shake her head. It wasn’t that the Vox had hurt her, it was what the event made her realise. Her own family was fading. They were ashes flying in different directions, dancing in the wind. She shuddered.

“It isn’t them it’s just…” Emily felt her voice fade, she hiccupped as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to cry again. She was stronger than this, wasn’t she? Emily wondered how she could have fought with her brother and ignore the obvious answer in front of her. She slowly lowered her hand and gripped the sink once more. Emily turned to look at Ree.

“It made me realise that my mom has done so many bad things… She lied to us. Our whole family is based on lies! And my dad was lied to and lied with her and… I had a fight with my brother and he is so angry at them! I hate not understanding anything!” Emily caught her breath as she felt another tear roll down her cheek.
Posted ImageEmily PemberlyHalfblood
Ravenclaw


everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains

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Elisamarie Cummingham
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Ree nodded at Emily. It was completely reasonable to be concerned for your family, especially at a time like this. Where the world seemed to be crashing in around them. Ree reached out and wiped the single tear from Emily's face.

"Sometimes people lie to protect their loved ones." Ree hadn't remembered the scene where it was revealed that her mother had been cheating on her father. Yet, she'd still managed to realize that there had been something going on there.

Ree's father lied to constantly out of worry for her safety. Jason had originally lied about being Ree's friend. The world was full of lies. "What did you and your brother fight about?" It wasn't as if Ree would ever know what it was like to have sibling rivalries.
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Emily Pemberly
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put on your doll faces

Emily shook her head, this lie wasn’t something which was meant to protect her. Was it? Emily didn’t understand why she was lied to, and she didn’t understand why her mother had said such hurtful things. Had she known it was being recorded? Those words couldn’t be forced out of her, and she didn’t even protest against them. She bit her bottom lip as she sniffed. “My mom was in an accident and… When we got back to the tent after the fire was put out there was this tape. It was my mom, and she was talking about how she never wanted us or wanted children and how we were accidents.”

Emily could now hear the words ringing in her ears. “She didn’t want kids because it would ruin her life. And then she said it did ruin her life.” Emily had suddenly understood why Gwen would hate them so much. Because her mother ran away from them and didn’t contact them because they weren’t wanted. Not by their mother anyway. Just their father, and from what her own father and mother spoke about it seemed as though Mr Montague was a scary man.

A deadly person. Emily could see why her mother would run away, but how she could do so without a second thought or even contacting them? Did she plan to do the same to Emily and her brother? It was all too confusing and unexplainable, Emily didn’t know if she would ever get answers to that and it made her feel sick just thinking about it. “Gwen hates me. I was so stupid thinking she would want to know us.” Emily shook her head as she covered her face.
Posted ImageEmily PemberlyHalfblood
Ravenclaw


everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains

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Elisamarie Cummingham
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Ree bit her lip. This wasn't good. There was no right way to deal with it. Sighing she took out her wallet from her purse. "You're mother is a very silly woman then. Everyone knows children are the best part of life." Ree swallowed as she fiddled with her wallet.

Those were the same words her first nanny had told her. It hadn't eased the pain of her own parents fights over Ree, but it had helped. "I'm sure that you and your siblings brought joy to your mother's life." Ree had opened up her wallet and retrieved the picture of her own mother.

Closing her wallet and dropping it back into her over the shoulder purse Ree looked back at Emily. "And even if your mother never wanted you, which I doubt, but if she didn't, then you still have a loving and caring father, right?" Ree's heart ached for Emily, but also for her own mother. Most of Ree's friends didn't bring up family issues with her. Especially not when it dealt with parents.

"And you have siblings, siblings always have each others backs... right?" Ree offered a little half smile to Emily, there was no reason for anyone to say that anybody ruined their life, besides themselves.

"Gwen is mean. Which probably doesn't help the situation you are in, but it's true." Ree hadn't personally been victim to any of the Slytherin girls cruel tricks. It had all been very, very lucky. "I think she hates everyone." Ree reached out and touched Emily's arm again.
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Dave McKelvey Jr.
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We're fragile. Wish I'd have known.

"Alex! Alex! Alex! Dave belted along with the crowd of drunkards who had started the chant to begin with. He pumped his fist in the air, not caring that he wasn't from Sweden or that he and Alex didn't even know each other. Dave was one hell of a beater in his own right, and Alex's success straight out of school gave Dave hope that he might someday find himself a team to play for.

"ALEX! ALEX! ALEX!" he continued chanting, but another name cut through the crowd and caught him by surprise. Dave spun around with his fist in the air like an idiot, and his insides froze when he spotted James and Ariella near the box's entrance. Quickly getting a hold of himself, Dave presented an excited, goofy smile as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the back.

"What are you guys doing up here?" Dave spoke quite loudly, as the stadium was now roaring with sound. Truthfully, Dave had snuck into one of the higher boxes to get away from anyone who might recognize him, but Ariella was always a welcome sight, or rather, she was now.
Dave McKelvey Jr. - Dave McKelvey - Charlotte McKelvey - Morgan McKelvey
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