From the Ashes

Who: Hayley and Travie
When: Mid-afternoon, Thursday 11/5
Where: Hayley's office thingy
What: Talkin' about some zombehs

After ducking out of and rescheduling two appointments, Travie figured he should cut the Ministry lady some slack. Well, she figured he should cut her some slack, and had cornered him and said as much that morning at breakfast. As a good Gryffindor, he just couldn't resist the slight damsel-in-distress overtone of her entreaty to please meet with her as she was just trying to do her job so she could get out of everyones' hair.

So he was keeping this appointment. It wasn't that he minded psychologists, he just didn't feel like rehashing all the zombie business again. Stay calm, carry on, have a cup of tea; it was practically written in his British, British genetics to resist long sobfests about the past. Okay, and maybe he minded psychologists a little.

Travis spent the walk to the guest quarters rehearsing and rearranging his explanation of the house elves so it would be as concise and quick as possible. Ms. Williams could get her job done and Travie could get back to his and they could carry the hell on. He knocked, shoved his hands in his pockets, and tried not to feel so very much like a kid waiting outside the headmaster's office for disciplining.

Who: Bob, Gerard, William, and Travis
Where: Hospital wing
What: Settling in and patching up injuries.
When: Around and during lunch on Tuesday (10/27)

While he would've preferred some time to settle in and get everything arranged according to his preferences before starting in on any patients, it was apparent to Bob as he pushed the door to the hospital wing open and stepped inside that he was not going to get that chance. A good quarter of the wings beds looked to be filled from where he stood, and if Adam was to believed, these were just those who were badly enough injured that they couldn't walk about.

Several students glanced up with fearful looks as Bob limped the rest of the into the room. Of these, some relaxed when they saw Betsy winding around Bob's ankles, arching her back and rubbing against his calf before trotting off to the back of the room, hopping up onto the pillow of one of the free cots, and promptly curling up and falling asleep. Still others relaxed when Bob smiled at them, but a number still looked tense despite that. Which was to be expected after what they'd all just been through.

"Hello. I'm Healer Bryar. I hear the old school nurse had an unfortunate encounter with undead house elves last week, so I'll be replacing her until the headmaster manages to con some other sucker into taking the job. Now, does anyone happen to know who's in the worst condition?" Bob waited a little while, taking the time to take off his pack and drop it next to the door. When it became clear no one was going to volunteer, he sighed and fixed them all with a look. "While I'm sure you lot would love to stay in bed and keep on skipping class, I'm going to tell you right now that without the house elves, there aren't enough available and able bodies in the school to keep your sheets clean. Have any of you seen bedsores? Not a pretty sight, but hey, they happen."

Who: Travie and William, with eventual Gerard
When: Saturday eveningish
Where: Library
What: Zombie bites.


( Ow. )

[delivered by a small grumpy platypus]

[To Auror Stumph]
How's the situation inside the castle? We've got hordes of zombie elves out here -- it started off with them moving around in groups of one or two, but they seem to be forming swarms out in the open now. It's a fucking nightmare, we're headed inside as soon as we can.

[To Professor Wentz]
Just letting you know I found nine of your first years out on the grounds. A couple have minor bites, but I cleaned them up and they seem to be doing okay. I'll deliver them to you SOON AS POSSIBLE. We're headed to the castle, so let me know where you want them. You'll definitely want to check some of the first years' pockets, by the way. These kids are insane. Holding up brilliantly, though. Gotta run, but just wondering, have you seen Mikey? I can't get a hold of him.

[To Professor Urie]
I have a whole pack of Hufflepuff first years I think belong to you. All doing well, just a bit shaken up. Are all Hufflepuffs such brilliant climbers, by the way? I had no idea. Anyway, we're headed to the castle soon, I'll find you and hand them over then.

[To Professor Sapota]
Found two of your sixth years out on the grounds -- Primrose Benson and Fletcher White. Give them a couple points to Slytherin for me, will you? They've been fucking lifesavers. On our way to the castle now, be there soon, hopefully.

[To William Beckett]
Spencer said you were headed towards Ravenclaw -- hope you're holding up okay. Fun fact! Zombie house elves still dislike being given socks, it turns out. Doesn't stop them for long, but it'll buy you a couple seconds. Maybe pass that along, if you can. Oh, right, I wanted to let you know we have about six Ravenclaw fourth years and two first years out here, couple with bad bites but I've got them mostly patched up for the moment. We're headed to the castle now, but -- oh, fuck me, that's a lot of elves. Fuck! Spencer, Jon, take the  -- [voice fades out]

Who: Pete & Travis
When: the wee hours of Saturday
Where: Various locations; a scenic tour of the grounds, really
What: a brief stroll, an even briefer adoption of some delightful children, and a rather unpleasant discovery

The first trip to Gryffindor from his last period class had been almost completely uneventful. The trip back down had been a bit less so, the trip to Ravenclaw downright tense; an unexpected trip up to the owlery had been harrowing, and the trip back down from there had given Pete a certain blood-splattered glow. He was pretty sure there were a few gummy chunks of brains in his hair. He could be more pleased about that, probably.

He could be more pleased about a lot of things, if he was being honest; it really sucked to have to kill the house elves. And he was still refusing to kill the ones he knew by name. Those he left petrified and bound for good measure. Someone else would come along and do the necessary finalities. It just didn't have to be him.

If he had a broom, he thought, this would be even easier. He could just fly along by the ceiling and swoop down for mass beheadings as the opportunities presented themselves. He didn't have a broom, though. Not a decent one, anyway, and he wasn't sure he wanted to accio one, just in case throngs of house elves followed its entrance and swarmed him before he could mount and evade.

Instead, he had his wand poised to stun and a sword he'd swiped from one of the suits of armor and sharpened until it passed through leathery skin and narrow spinal columns without a problem. He'd been doing it from behind whenever possible - a turn of phrase he would giggle about under other circumstances - which wasn't much, but it was probably going to help him sleep sometime in the next few months.

If they survived this, they were going to need a shit load of therapy.

There were a handful of house elves loitering loosely just above the steps down to the entrance hall; they were staring at each other, communicating their longing for flesh in some weird grunty staring language. He managed to stun four of them from around the corner, and petrify the other two once they'd stepped around their still companions, a good ten or so feet before they could get their creepy little paws on him. He swung his sword five times (one of them was named Kipki; he'd always liked that the little wrap she wore was fuchsia) and held his arm out to the side, shaking long drips of blood off his blade and onto the floor. He cast fast, careful glances both directions down the hall and bound Kipki tightly in magical rope before trotting down the stairs, wand raised and sword at the ready.

Who: Travie and Patrick
Where: Random corridors
When: Friday, around the end of last period
What: ZOMBIES BWAHAHA

Travis and Patrick were supposed to be doing rounds; usually this consisted of shooting the shit and poking into rooms at random to make sure no evil plant life had germinated. TGIF, though, and once last period was over, Travie just needed to do one final sweep of the main corridors and then he'd, in theory, be off for a day or two. He slowed, sights set on opening the next door on the left. They were in the main part of the school, near the library and a handful of usable classrooms, and a couple floors up from the Great Hall, so chances were good that this particular room had already been cleared out ages ago. Class was due to get out soonish, which meant watching for snogging teenagers and stinkbombs and muddy shoes- all in a day's work. "Hold up a mo, mate."

He twisted the worn doorknob, leaning into the empty storage closet to peer around. Nope, no teenagers and no hexes, which was above par for this school. Travis closed the door again. "Nothing! So we should go into Hogsmeade next weekend, yeah?"

Who: Gerard and Jon (and whoever else is wandering the grounds)
When: Friday before dinner
Where: the Grounds
What: patrolling and eluding certain death, etc etc

It was a gorgeous fall afternoon, which meant a good portion of the student population was out wandering around, basking in the crisp air and kicking through leaf litter. Gerard couldn’t blame them for wanting to get out – weather like this wasn’t going to last much longer, and once it ended they’d be stuffed indoors with hundreds of other teenagers. Poor bastards.

Normally he didn’t mind having the kids milling around outside, even if it did mean extra work for him. They were sort of hilarious with all their teenaged drama and posturing – like a live action soap opera. But for some reason, right now it was making Gerard uneasy. Probably just all the weirdness lately – another Venemous tentacula was probably going to spring up any moment now. At least it’d be dark soon and they’d all be heading inside for dinner.

Although if those Ravenclaw and Slytherin fourth years didn’t stop poking at the grindylows under the docks, Gerard was just going to feed them to the fucking squid and be done with it. He felt a little bad for being short with them, but at least they retreated sulkily to the shore, where they’d be safe. Safer, anyway.

He went back to flying his circuit and scanning the grounds for anything out of the ordinary -- oh, look, Gryffindors shouting at each other. Not what he was exactly call unusual. Gerard made a mental note to check back later and make sure it didn’t devolve from shouting to wandwork.

Something still felt off, though. His instincts were something he’d learned to trust during the war, but he was starting to doubt himself a bit now. He was just wondering if maybe he had time to go get a cup of coffee or something, calm himself down, when he saw something odd by the South Wall. He circled down cautiously for a closer look.

Holy fuck, a house elf! Gerard had never actually seen one out and about on the grounds before, so that was odd enough, and then he spotted another three of them. And – Gerard flared his nostrils, frowning. And they smelled – odd. Like old meat. Gerard called down to them, wary, and they looked up at him with blank, filmy eyes. One snapped its little brown teeth at him, reaching upward. The others started up a low, unintelligible moan.

And that’s when he heard the screaming start.

Who: Gabe and Travis
When: Sunday afternoon, right after this
Where: Travie's quarters
What: Baking.

The upside to inheriting living quarters from Argus Filch was that, come wartime, whoever had camped out in the school hadn't bothered booby-trapping that set of rooms. Travis could only imagine why they'd passed up such prime real estate; maybe cat urine and fish sticks weren't quite the air freshener scents they were looking for. Understandable. Anyway, it was nice not to worry about cursed lice or disappearing mattresses or any of the other nasty tricks his cohorts complained about in the staff room. It did, however, mean disposing of more rusty lengths of chain than any adult man working around children ought to possess.

Travis had scrubbed the worst of the smell and the stains out by now, tossed some laundry festively around for atmosphere, and called it a day in the decoration department. He was technically not supposed to smoke inside, but he'd been striving to ignore minor rules that impeded his personal fulfillment all his life. So, in anticipation of Gabe's imminent arrival, he was rolling a couple thick joints at the imposing, oversized desk in the tiny office outside his room. Heh. He had a desk. That was still funny.

[Note to Gabe, Sunday morning]

A nice Hufflepuff lad seems to be under the impression that you conjured a snake that tried to choke young Master Beckett in the library yesterday. Apparently you also shot flames from your eyes and cursed a whole bunch in "some gibberish language".

Do we need to have a talk about public indecency, man?

-Travie

Moširêlêtši.

In Sesotho sa Leboa it means 'protector; defender; guardian.' I was originally thinking of something more along the lines of 'sentinel', but this seems appropriate, don't you think?

Now stop giving me a hard time about it not having a name. Hippie.

I'm closing an hour early tonight, since the NEWT students can't study inside anyway. Let's hide out hang out. Just the two of us. We can catch up.

- Bill

Who: Joe and anyone who wants to join
Where: The grounds
When: Wednesday
What: Fun with patronii (which sounded better in my head)

As soon as Joe dismissed his last class, which included a memorable instance of a pair of former best friends' ostrich and hamster chasing each other around the room for ten chaotic minutes, Joe decided to fuck off being responsible and spend the rest of the daylight hours outside with his gorilla. He didn't know if it was normal to give the tangible manifestation of your soul's representation a name; it was weird calling the gorilla gorilla and weird calling him patronus, so Joe went with Gori.

He found a spot by the lake underneath a couple trees and plopped down. The lake was pretty in the afternoon sunlight and every now and then a long tentacle broke the surface of the water and startled his gorilla into running back to Joe, jumping into his lap and pressing his face into Joe's chest.

"It's okay, little dude," Joe said, ruffling it's hair.

Who: Everyone!
Where: The mysteriously-acquired floating pavilion on the lake.
When: Sunday night, 11 PM, after the kiddies are in bed.
What: The 'virus is cured, we have all slept for a full day, and everyone is alive!' party.

You can get to the white pavilion on the lake via magical means, or there are the first-year rowboats tucked up on the bank available for use. It's hard to miss; there are dozens of candles lighting up the night sky, and the pavilion itself is the size of a small house. There are bottles of champagne and trays of hors d'œuvre lining the walls. There are also over-sized cushions everywhere, so if anyone chooses to spend the night under the stars, that's totally an option. It's been a stressful week; the party might go until dawn.

Who: Gabe & Travie (and William!)
Where: Gabe's den (also known as his office in the dungeons)
What: Working! Totally working! Or, perhaps, skiving off, talking shit and smoking up.
When: Evening (say, the evening before the kiddies come back?)

The good thing about Travis coming down to visit him in his office was that Gabe could tinker with the gently bubbling contents of his cauldron (weird-smelling too, but he wasn't inhaling too deeply since he leaned over it and got mugged by imaginary fluffy bunnies) while they talked. The better thing about Travis coming down to visit was that Gabe could (and did! it never gets old!) give him shit about his reluctance to set foot in anything lower than the Great Hall before Gabe spent most of a month realigning the qi down here. But the best thing about Travis coming down was that he brought his weed with him.

Gabe exhaled sweet-smelling smoke, which mingled with the orange steam rising from the cauldron and sent a shower of tiny feathered wisps of something back down into the brew. Huh. Interesting. He kept one eye on the potion as he stretched out to pass the joint back to Travis, but it didn't seem inclined to explode, disappear or even transmute. Oh well. He'd still make a note of it. Or would as soon as he could find his quill. He lifted his notebook, his reference books, rummaged among the pile of chestnuts, peered under the cauldron. "Hey man," he said, a little muffled by his cheek against the desk, "my quill over there?"

Who: Adam & Travis
Where: Outside Ryan Ross's Office/Quarters
When: Afternooon
What: De-Hexing, cleaning, etc etc.

The worst part about going up to make sure that Ryan Ross's suite wasn't going to eat him alive was, for Adam, not knowing in particular what he was walking into. House elf magic could be pretty serious business when it came to following orders, and for them not to want to go in... well, either the spells were too complicated, or hair was about to get singed. At the very least, hair was going to get singed. More than likely, someone was going to end up in the infirmary before the night was over, and it was probably going to be Adam. Oh well, nothing he hadn't been through before.

He was just glad that students weren't around to see him stomping around in his muggle clothes, which he really felt were best for this sort of thing (especially if it was going to involve any sort of household charm, which Adam happened to be spectacularly bad at), because it meant he couldn't get tangled up in his robes and he was less likely to have something awful climb into a place that he didn't want it because there was less fabric near the floor for it to climb.

Okay, he was getting slightly paranoid in his old age, apparently. He was disappointed to realize this as he leaned against the windowsill, waiting for Travis and scuffing the toe of his boot across a crack in the floor.