From the Ashes

Who: Audrey and Z
What: A chance encounter in the library
When: Monday, January 18, early evening
Where: The library, near the Divination stacks

Z was only partly aware of her surroundings, focused on book titles. She was after a particular book on that explored the relationship between numerology and natal charts for her latest Arithmancy assignment. Z wasn't a huge fan of the divinatory side of Arithmancy, but it was interesting enough Z turned a corner and continued scanning titles. More and more of them had to do with numerology and predicting things-she had to be close.

Somewhere in there the books shifted from Arithmancy to Divination without Z noticing until she bumped into someone, knocking several books off the shelf-one of which was titled Play the Cards With Spades To Start: A Guide to Cartomancy.

Who: Victoria and Adam
What: Victoria needs to have a chat with the DADA professor about student conduct
When: Wednesday, January 13, evening
Where: Adam's office

Victoria Asher was quite the formidable sight when annoyed, and anyone looking at her as she strode down the halls of Hogwarts on Wednesday evening could hardly miss that she was annoyed. She was headed directly for the DADA office, practically dragging a fourth-year student who had better sense than to protest. Whatever she'd said to the lad, or more likely whatever she'd caught him at, before hauling him up to see Professor Lazzara had cowed him so much he wasn't issuing even a peep of protest.

As Victoria came to the door, she stopped short, so quickly that the poor boy almost tripped over her feet and his own. He regained his balance while Victoria rapped sharply on Adam's office door, her expression reflecting both clear impatience at having to wait on Adam to open it and the amount of trouble she expected her charge to be in immediately afterward: a lot.

Who: Gerard and William
When: January 3rd or so?
Where: The library
What: Post-traumatic werewolf disorder

With the students returning, there was slightly more to be done in the library than there had been for the last month. William had put the necessary class texts on hold, placed another literature request with the headmaster, and was re-sizing some of the bookshelves to better suit the needs of the collections they housed.

It still wasn't nearly enough to keep him distracted from thoughts of the past few days.

The sight of movement in the doorway made him tense and move half-behind the nearest shelf before cautiously looking out. It wasn't Z, for which he was grateful - Bob had declared him patched up and released him from the infirmary with nothing more than a few dull aches, but he still had no desire to get into another fight. It was, however, someone nearly as unfortunate. Gerard.

Gerard, the secret werewolf.

Who: Mikey & Adam
When: Evening of Tues, Jan 12th?
Where: Adam's Office
What: Checking up on the injured dude

Mikey knocked on the door to Adam's office as carefully as he could, mindful of the two mugs of coffee and the packet of chocolate Hobnobs balanced in his arms. It was a delicate art, carrying and knocking. As was working out what exactly he was going to say if Adam was interested in talking. 'Sorry I didn't tell you I had a boyfriend for a few months, but hey, I guess that's kind of old news now you've been bitten by a werewolf, huh?'

Maybe they could just sit in silence. Or maybe Mikey could leave the coffee outside the door and go back to his own office.

But both of those plans were shitty cowardly ones, and regardless of anything (and everything), he kind of needed to see Adam. The last time he'd lain eyes on him for more than thirty seconds had been when he'd come into the Hospital Wing early in that gritty morning after. Adam had just been lying there, pale and motionless in sleep, and Mikey had felt so abruptly sick that he'd turned and left before he could even sit down.

He stayed where he was and after a moment's deliberation, called out: "Hey, it's me. Mikey."

WHO: Adam & Gabe
WHERE: Adam's office/rooms
WHAT: Gabe putting porridge down Adam's pants?
WHEN: Wednesday, January 13, during their mutual free period.

Adam was hiding. Still. It was just better to stay in his office and avoid people rather than go out and be somewhere he might run into Gerard. Or Mikey, or - fuck, Gabe, who had thought that Adam was a werewolf and that was clearly, clearly not true.

Staying in his office was the best form of hiding, and if anyone asked, he totally had an excuse. He was researching. He was working on his report! He was looking things up for Z! Honestly! He was totally not hiding at all.

Nevermind that most of the time he didn't even have a book open or a quill out. Nevermind that most of his time spent alone in his office was spent dozing, or standing in his room looking anxiously at the healing bite-mark on his neck. (He could look at the one on his hand whenever he wanted. It required a lot less high-necked clothing.)

Who: Victoria and OPEN (Mikey, Audrey)
What: Random interaction!
When: Monday, January 11, after dinner (so anyone can be present)
Where: Staff lounge

Victoria hadn't realised when she'd taken a teaching position exactly how exhausting dealing with large groups of adolescents for most of each day was going to be. Binns' schedule, the one she'd decided to keep to for the rest of this year, was apparently predicated on his lack of any need for sleep. She found herself envying the teachers who had assistants and wishing for one of her own to help her with the student parchments.

She was sitting with rolls of said parchments at her feet, slowly marking off errors in red ink on them, in the staff room. She might have done better at the work if she'd been in the library or in her own office, but if Victoria didn't have some adult conversation soon, she was certain she was going to throw something at someone. At least her colleagues weren't going to prattle about third-year dating drama, or so Victoria hoped.

Who: Z and Adam
What: The start of weekly DADA tutoring and a conversation about Dark magic and wards
When: BACKDATED Tuesday, January 5
Where: The DADA classroom and surrounding environs

Z liked to think that she was watching the clock tick like a sleek predator waiting out its prey but really, she was watching it like something helpless that was praying for divine intervention. Today was the worst day ever. Z had woken up around 5 am from near-nightmares about time travel. The sheer amount of magic she'd been exposed to the past weekend was still sending her senses reeling and the vicious fighting and deaths she'd seen in the past were still affecting her. The loss of William's friendship stung and Z was still trying to sort out how she felt about Gerard being a werewolf and having to fight him off to protect Professor Lazzara.

Z had also woken up covered in sparkles and when she'd flailed and fallen out of bed due to the potent combination of almost-nightmare and glitter, she'd realized she was trailing them. This wasn't the worst reaction she'd ever had to her cat allergy potion (Z was pretty sure this had happened a couple times, though the colors might have been different-once when she was eight and delighted by it, once when she was thirteen and she'd be appalled, and again during her last year of high school, which had "forced" her to skip so not to freak out the muggles) but it was still annoying. No one wanted to be trailing multicolored sparkles, especially to the second-ever class they had to TA. Worse, it was Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. And Ryan Ross. First thing in the morning.

Z's life sucked.

Charms had been all right, though she couldn't quite meet Nate Novarro's eyes (she'd spent large parts of the holidays avoiding him like the plague) and Herbology continued to confuse her. Also, there was dirt. Somehow Z'd managed to sparkle through the dirt. Potions had actually been really good, but Runes ruined her day. The sixth years were all bastards who needs to die and Ryan Ross seriously needed to get his shit together and actually figure out how to teach. It was so close to 3:50 pm and Z was so close to freedom.

Finally! Freedom from Runes. Z was the first one out of the room and intended to back to her dorm and have a wonderful, glorious and otherwise amazing nap until dinner. Then her planner started shrieking at her about being late. Z checked it and swore. Defense Against the Dark Arts tutoring with Professor Lazzara, 4pm.

Fuck her life.

Z turned abruptly and started trudging towards the DADA classroom.

Who: Z and William
What: The most tragic temporal mishap
When: Saturday, January 2 2010 and The Not-So-Mysterious Past
Where: The library, various corridors

Z marked her place in the battered copy of 'Keystone Spells in Ancient Wards." It was fairly dull reading, but it gave a thorough overview of pre-Christian wards and protection spells. Her stomach rumbled and Z checked the time; well no wonder she was hungry and having a hard time focusing. Dinner was served twenty minutes ago. She collected her notes and gathered the books she wanted to check out.

Z took the leisurely way to the front of the library. She could use the walk and she might run into William more quickly that way. She found him in the reference section doing something vaguely mysterious with a few books.

"William," Z said brightly. "I have books to check out and we both have dinner to get to. I won't take no for an answer-I am a lady and I must be escorted."

WHO: Adam & Z
WHERE: the DADA classroom & surrounding areas
WHAT: The World's Most Awkward Tutoring Session. Ever.
WHEN: (BACKDATED) Monday, December 28 - afternoon

Even though this session had been scheduled for weeks - much like the session the day all of them had ended up beneath the mistletoe in the first place - Adam wasn't looking forward to trying to teach Z Berg anything. Or even looking her in the eye. If he could do that. He wasn't really sure he could look her in the face after having had to kiss her - and after all the dreams that he'd had thanks to Hogwarts's lovely, monstrous hybrid of dreamvine and mistletoe.

Adam kind of hated everything about Hogwarts sometimes.

That was precisely why he was sitting at his desk in his office, feet up on the corner, radio on and eyes closed. And okay, if anyone knocked and wanted to know what he was doing, he was reading. Hey, look, there was even a book open on his lap, okay, no one needed to know that he was really watching the insides of his eyelids. He was just trying to find his zen, was all. And brace himself for an hour or so of trying to get Elizabeth Berg to apply practical Dark Arts Defense with skill and finesse.

He needed the rest.

Who: Z, Adam, Bob (and Betsy)
When: Very late on December 31
Where: Hospital Wing
What: Z introduces Bob to The Patient

After successfully levitating Adam after Gerard's attack, Z made her way to the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible. She decided to eschew the not-so-secret-passages that would make the trip shorter, but would also increase the odds of Adam getting some kind of unintentional damage from his head bouncing off a wall or something.

"-so I'm sitting with Greenwald and Alexa and it's sort of confusing because she also goes by Alex sometimes? So we've instituted a last names policy thing when it comes to Alexes and Mikes and Nicks, only we're all rather sloshed at this party and it's really hard to pronounce Runion's last name after a certain point and that point is also when "Mark" and "Mike" start sounding alike? So I'm sitting with Alexa and Greenwald, trying to talk to Murray and Runion about...something, and someone was distracting me and somehow this becomes a game of truth or dare? These things happen, and then someone dares Greenwald to snog Mike, but it comes out like Mark or maybe Runion ended up sounding like Ronson? Either way, the only Mark in the room right then is Ronson and that was hilarious because they had a thing neither of them admits to-and you're not listening at all, are you?"

Z'd had to take a flight of stairs that was notorious for shifting direction and she'd ended up one floor above and most of a corridor away from the Hospital Wing. Adam was sliding in and out of consciousness and Z was certain he shouldn't be allowed to pass out entirely so she needed something he could focus on. Stupid stories about her friends obviously weren't doing the trick-singing might?

"What are your thoughts on Queen, Professor? No objections? Excellent. Feel free to sing along then." Z started singing Bohemian Rhapsody (figuring that with Adam in tow and The Events of Which No One Should Ever Speak, it was a better idea than Somebody To Love, which was the only other Queen song she knew most of the lyrics to). She got most of the way through the song when she came the Hospital Wing doors. Z stopped midlyric to rush forward, bang on the door and yell

"Healer Bryar! Professor Lazzara's been hurt!"

Who: Nate, Gerard, William, Jon
When: New Year's Eve
Where: Out on the grounds
What: The hunt

It was freezing outside. Scotland in the dark time between December and January, of course it was. William had a heavy woolen cloak and a warming charm in his winter boots, but even that wasn't enough to cut the cold seeping through his many layers of clothing. He wasn't planning on staying out here long, at least. No more than an hour or two.

Bob's warnings had been frustratingly paradoxical. It would be best to quarantine him away from the students in case anything went wrong, but too dangerous for him to leave the grounds. William had decided on a walk around the outer wall of the castle, footfalls crunching quietly in the snow. It was peaceful out here, and he knew enough charms to avoid frostbite. The moon hung pregnant, full and round in the night sky. He could pick out an abundance of constellations from here, and wished briefly that he'd invited Mikey along for the walk.

It would have been too dangerous, though, if anything went wrong, and too cold, besides. Knowing Mikey, he would have agreed in the spirit of friendship, when he could have been curled up with Spencer in front of a roaring hearth. The potion Gabe had promised to attempt wouldn't be ready for another half-day, at least, so for now William was on his own, walking the grounds outside the castle.

Who: William, Spencer, Mikey
When: Weds 30th Dec
Where: Somewhere about the castle
What: Hey, aren't you usually a little bigger?

Mikey was done with Wednesday.

Two hours ago he had gotten conscientiously out of bed in perfect time for his 9am lesson, trundled all the way through the corridors, tripped on a doorway, splashed coffee on his notes, then found the classroom empty and the only child nearby insisting it was Sunday.

It had been strange, but not necessarily a problem. And really he'd been quite happy to give one glance to the deserted corridors, take the Ravenclaw at her word, and then go back to bed. Getting days mixed up was something he was totally capable of.

No, the real problem was that he'd woken up an hour or so later to an owl from one of his first years wondering why their lesson had been cancelled with no notice. And now, when he left his room, it seemed to definitely be Wednesday. There were children bustling about the hallways, swinging book bags and chatting loudly, and the clock on the second floor was pointing authoritatively to Mittwoch.

Which meant he'd obviously been the victim of a neatly executed prank and his first years - and possibly others - were holed up in a common room somewhere laughing at him.

He sighed, and turned down a less busy corridor to try and concentrate on a suitable punishment. His fingers dragged against the wall and then suddenly he was blinking into sunlight strangely bright for the time of day and his head felt heavy, like he'd been sleeping for too long.

Who: Spencer and William
When: Mid-morning, December 28th
Where: The library
What: Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff

Movement caught the corner of William's eye, and he turned automatically toward the motion without thinking. The source of the distraction turned out to be Pearce-Parson, a third-year Slytherin (the worst year for that House, or so William had come to be convinced, although it was a close race), who, as William watched, stuffed something - a note? a list? Merlin forbid, a page from a book? - inside the library wall before plugging the gap. The boy looked over his shoulder as he fitted the stone into place, clearly nervous about his subterfuge being discovered, but he was looking in the wrong direction.

William took a step forward to reprimand him, and stopped again, abruptly dizzy. There was something in the way the light fell on that side of the room...too bright, perhaps, the shadows shorter, not quite right. It didn't make any sense, and when William blinked and shook his head to clear it, he opened his eyes to find everything as normal and Pearce-Parson gone.

He took the remaining steps over to the wall and smoothed his hand over the cool stones. This was the spot, he was certain of it. This was the shape of the stone, but when William pried at it with his fingertips, it wasn't even slightly loose. Nor did he remember it being so, or any of the other stones, although he couldn't say he made a habit of checking. Even so, he'd thought he would have noticed.

He tapped his wand around the edges of the stone, chipping at the masonry until it was loose enough to slide free of the wall, mortar crumbling to dust over his shoes and the carpet. Nothing. There was nothing there. No scrap of parchment, not the slightest sign of disturbance beyond what William had caused. He frowned, and looked around again. No sign of Pearce-Parson. William hadn't even known he was here in the library. He must have slipped in while William had been looking for a treatise on magical applications of woad. Strange, that.

WHO: Adam & Gerard & Z
WHERE: the DADA classroom & surrounding areas
WHAT: SHENANIGANS
WHEN: New Year's Eve (Thursday, Dec. 31)

Adam, being prone to getting into trouble when the mere thought of boredom set in, had spent the day locked up in his office, scribbling away at a myriad of notes and research. He was trying to compile them into something that made sense (he had been for years - he was an extremely unproductive researcher). So if time got away from him, that was totally understandable.

That was why he was running late for a hot date with a hot lady as he tried to stack all the mess scattered around his office and get everything locked up whilst paying attention to personal hygiene (not awful, even though there was a big smear of ink on his cheek) and the state of his clothes (dismal).

He got his jacket caught on the doorknob of his classroom on the way out, and had to stop to untangle, swearing all the while.

Who: Gabe and William
When: The wee hours of December 31st
Where: Gabe's rooms
What: Blood magic and dreams

William hit the bookshelf hard. He moaned into Gabe's mouth, already pulling at the heavy encumbrance of Gabe's robes to get to the skin and muscle beneath. Gabe's hand was around his throat - oh, he knew this dream, this memory, knew it well - and he squeezed as William pushed up against him, panting. William's head dropped back against the shelf and he inhaled raggedly, spots dancing in front of his eyes at the lack of oxygen, his hips still rocking forward, riding the bulge beneath Gabe's robe. "Don't stop," he gasped, afraid of the moment Gabe would pull away and leave him here, aching and incomplete.

The library swirled into gray around them, resolving into his rooms, candlelit and shadowed. His rooms, his bed, his door which Gabe currently had him pressed up against; much better for their purposes, certainly much more convenient than a library shelf. Gabe's hand tightened around his throat, and there was a strange sibilant hiss in his voice when he answered, "Oh, I won't." William opened his eyes and saw Gabe smiling, sharpened snake's teeth gleaming and a droplet of bright blood dripping from one pointed fang. William choked at the pressure, lungs screaming for air, twisting to get away in vain as Gabe leaned closer and hissed, "This is payback."

William woke up. It took a while for the room to distinguish itself from the darkness of night, for his eyes to adjust and his heart to stop pounding. He was soaked with sweat, one hand clutching the damp sheet covering his mattress. He got out of bed and set the candles alight, trying to chase away the lingering shadows and sick feeling left from the nightmare. He would have a cup of tea. Do some reading, visit the bath, maybe head down to breakfast early if he was still awake. Falling back asleep right now seemed impossible, with the memory of suffocation crowding in on him in his silent room. He could breathe perfectly fine, he told himself. It was just a dream. He could always go to - not to Gabe, he would ask too many questions - but to Bob, ask about a dreamless sleep potion. Bob had told him...had said...

Standing, William Summoned his night robe from the closet and belted it tightly around him. His hands shook slightly when he tied the knot, but it was just the claustrophobia of the room, the lateness of the hour, the idea that...

He grabbed the stack of parchment and headed for the dungeons before he could talk himself out of it. There was someone he needed to see, whether either of them liked it or not.

Who: Gerard and Bob
Where: Warded containment chamber on the third floor, and then... well. That's the problem, isn't it?
When: 12/31, and the moon is rising
What: See above

It was a boring fucking room. Well, it had to be, because even with the wolfsbane potion, Gerard usually went fucking stir-crazy when the transformation hit, couldn't resist tearing around and biting and clawing and ripping until he'd tired himself out, stopped itching to run. Much more sensible to stay in a barren little room, nothing to destroy in it but himself, he knew that, but knowing it didn't stop the wait from being a total demon-balled dickdrag. Nothing to read, nothing to do, nothing to do. Not even a window to look out of. Just pacing, and more pacing.

He could feel it, the moonrise tugging at his bones and nerves and veins. Hot. Itchy. Fuck, soon now. He reached the east wall and turned again, hands flexing, and then he grimaced and spit to the side, and that was just an extra little jolt of misery, wasn't it, that taste, that fucking taste. He normally took the wolfsbane in a series of shot glasses, let as little touch his tongue as possible, but the taste had really lingered this go-round. Spitting again -- useless, he could still fucking taste it, bitter and cloying -- and then he reached a wall, and turned, stalked in the opposite direction.

Soon soon soon, he could feel it, but it wasn't -- he hit a wall and stopped. It didn't make sense, his skin was usually rippling by now, his spine shifting. It didn't -- he didn't understand, and he was so hungry. Fucking hell, fucking room, fucking walls. Walls walls always walls. He bared his teeth and slammed a fist into the wall -- fucking wall -- and then froze.

Fist. Hands. He had hands. He licked his lips -- lips, not snout, and then slowly smiled, wide and toothy. Well. This was -- this could work. This was convenient, this was sneaky. He didn't do sneaky, because sneaky was not what tearing someone's throat out with your teeth was about, but he'd been locked away for so long, and this -- this was a gift, a chocolate-covered blood-filled cherry just for him, and he was going to take it. He could smell them, the wizards and witches, just out of reach, and oh yes. He looked like a lamb, but he had teeth, and they were going to be sorry for all these fucking walls.

He pondered his options, flexing his wonderful, lovely, opposable fingers, and then looked around himself. There. Door. Locked, locked with bolts and with magic, but he could do this. He was going to figure this out, except then he howled in outrage as his knees came in sharp contact with the floor. Two legs now, two legs. Keep it together, remember how the humans walk and talk and taste, mmm. Taste.

Staggering back upright, he glared at his feet and shook himself until the body felt -- he knew this, yes, he did. His human self knew this, and he would take that and use it, pathetic whiny human knowledge. He shoved at the door, snarled and then shoved again, and again, and harder, with his rage and longing for open spaces and running and teeth and things to tear, and it opened. Swung right open, easy as biting into a bunny.

Gerard stared at the empty corridor for a moment, hardly able to believe it, and then giggled in delight and bounded forth, licking his teeth. This was going to be fantastic.

Who: Gabe and William
When: Late night, December 29th
Where: Primarily Gabe's rooms
What: Returning a lost belonging

William was re-shelving his last stack of books for the night when a flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye. There was nothing there when he turned, which led him to suspect it was one of the older students sneaking around trying to gain access to the Restricted Section. He frowned, waiting a moment longer, and then reached up to slide the final book onto the shelf and saw the flicker again. Much closer this time. A few inches from his fingers, in fact.

The mysterious intruder wasn’t a student, it was a snake. A hooded cobra, specifically. And one that was either Disillusioned or Chameleon Cloaked, judging by the way it faded in and out of sight. “Hello,” he said cautiously, voice low. He wished he could speak Parseltongue, but tone of voice was the best he could do. Back in second-year, he and Andrew had spent several weeks attempting to learn the basics from a recorded spoken-words book, but that had been long ago and they’d never really mastered the art. It was a difficult language to get the hang of, when everything on the recording sounded almost exactly the same to their ears.

The snake either couldn’t read his tone or didn’t care, because she coiled warningly, head rearing back. William froze, keeping very still as he watched it for signs of aggression. He would be able to get to Bob in time if it were merely a case of snakebite venom, of course, but this was no ordinary snake. William could feel the tingle of magic flickering dangerously along with its forked tongue.

“Right,” he said slowly. “Just let me…”

A conjured mouse was probably less satisfying to a cobra than a real one, but debatably more ethical to produce, and certainly quicker in a pinch. The snake made reasonably fast work of it regardless, while William stood at a careful distance and watched, his wand moving in deliberate, measured circles. The snake moved more slowly as the temperature dropped, relaxing into well-fed torpidity. It didn’t react with alarm when William edged forward, so he hooked it gently with his wand and let it curl sleepily around his arm.

“No biting,” he told it. He couldn’t remember the name that had been on the notice, but he had no doubt where this particular magical minion belonged. Apparently they were off to visit Gabe.

( Wanted! )

Dear Scrabble Team 'Skipped A Few Classes in Primary School',

There is no such thing as a netbook in the English or Latin languages. To give you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps you meant notebook, and one of your intended letters inconveniently fell off the board and the word rearranged itself into incomprehensibility. Possibly you were thinking of a neti pot, but while those are currently in existence (albeit not as a solitary compound word), neti books almost certainly, to my knowledge, are not. No one in their right mind, flexible Indian yoga practitioner or not, would attempt to use any sort of book in such a manner.

Your score has been penalized accordingly.

P.S. If this has anything to do with the Worldwide Spiderweb, please remember that Muggle slang has no place in civilized Scrabble games. Do try to spell with some decorum.