Regulation and Control

( From the evening edition of the Sunday Prophet )

Who: Astoria
What: Aftermath of a week in Mathwall
When: Friday day BACKDATED
Where: Warrington townhouse, London
Status: Closed, complete

( Shout, shout, let it all out / These are the things I can do without )

Who: Charlie and Ginny
What: Family reunion
When: Friday morning BACKDATED
Where : Mathwall
Rating: Probably PG for language
Status: Closed; complete

( You will find your own way / When the day is clear / You will find your own way / You may find your way back here )

Who: Astoria Greengrass, Zacharias Smith, Clare Smith and OPEN
Where: wizarding London
When: April 11, after the wall goes down
What: A charm bomb, a device previously unknown to the wizarding world, goes off, trapping several people in a six-block radius in Mathwall. By locating five points of weakness, the Regulators bring the wall down. Zach and Clare start to leave but Obliviators attempt to intercept them for obvious reasons.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

Zach's head felt as if it might drag his body down to ground if it kept walking, the anxious, throbbing pulsing of the veins in his temples so furious that he could almost hear it. Clare was holding on to one of his hands as he stumbled into the crowd, weaving through the frantic rush, afraid that they would somehow intrude on a reunion.

But everywhere he and Clare moved, it seemed, people were embracing, laughing, kissing, crying... The weight of the girl's sweaty fingers, sticky against his own, surprised him. This was the first time she'd reached for him, that they'd touched for more than a second. He wondered what she saw in those joyful families that they passed - he wondered if she longed for that. As he did. Then his knee began to buckle and he felt her hands try to press against his back, supporting him and he understood. Zach had taken injuries in the wall - charmed injuries that wouldn't heal and with all the deaths and chaos, he had chosen not to run to Goldstein.

Another hand - larger - clamped his shoulder and he heard Clare gasp as a broad-shouldered man stopped the both of them.

"Sir," the man said. "I'd like you to come with me." His fingers were twined around a wand as he stood there, the smile on his face deceptively comforting. Zach saw them in the distance - people being led to a small clearing, flashes of light telling the story of what was happening - or being erased. His fist clenched and he stepped back, covering Clare.

"No." Zach shook his head. "I don't fucking think so."

"It's not a choice." A badge flashed, the glint of the Ministry insignia caught in the sun. "You and the girl, come along now." Eyes swept across them now, cold despite the warm brown of the iris. Zach took another step back, the pain lancing through his arm now with ferocity, almost gleeful. He could hear her breath behind him, quickening in fear, yet she didn't whimper.

"You don't fucking get it," he said, "I'm a goddamn wizard." His foot shuffled, then he stumbled, buckling under the weight of a sudden slam against the back of his knees. Another Obliviator grabbed him by the elbows and he kicked at him, snarling as his fist lashed out, then-

"Resisting Ministry interrogation'll get that little girl taken away from you for a long time." Zach pulled the fist back but barely, the anger coursing through his skin, hot and furious as his shoulder was clenched between a pair of hands that dragged him to his feet. His muscles tensed as he stared at the men surrounding him, wondering whether what they'd said was actually true. Clare was rocking on her heel, her eyes wide and frightened as another Obliviator tried to take her hand. She spat at him, then struggled against the grip as his fingers wrapped around her elbow and yanked.

Who: Isaac Kettering, Rives Desmarais, Maisie Baxter, Tyler Conrad, & Élodie Desmarais
What: Escape from Mathwell once the wall goes down while avoiding Obliviators, a reunion, and probably some other stuff.
When: Friday, April 11, 2008 - night
Where: Mathwell, London - the sewers, then some other part of London
Rating: PG-13 because Isaac has almost the foulest mouth on him ever
Status: Closed, incomplete.



"C'mon," Isaac muttered, his voice barely audible to himself. He knew Rives would hear it, though. "Fucking Wizards - the wall's been down a good... a good long while..." He was struggling with the grating covering a manhole, trying to get it up. "If I know anything about them, and I do, so just don't even fucking ask, they're sweeping through even as I fucking say it. Fucking Obliviators - look, you superhuman bastard, help me out here."

Rives put the little girl he'd been carrying around down for a moment and lifted the grate off like it was nothing. Isaac hated him in that moment in a purely personal level, more annoyed at being a little grateful than anything else. "Right, in we go. They'll not sweep through here until a bit later, if we're lucky. Right poncey, the lot of them. We can get out, you can head on back to your damn family. I'll find these kids a place to stay, and we'll all get over everything like it never even fucking happened."

Isaac went down first and Rives handed him the girl, then the boy, and followed. He even pulled the damn grate down again. If he hadn't been trying to figure out how to manage that himself, he might've been even more annoyed. Luckily, he just picked up the little boy and they started walking. It was damp, it was full of garbage and the sorts of refuse that you really didn't want to think about, all things considered - and the stench was enough to make him wish he didn't have a nose at all - or that cutting it off would do him some good.

Jesus fuck, he thought, leading the way through the tunnels - it was a twisted route, one he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to follow if it weren't for certain marks spaced out every once in a while, just enough to keep him from getting completely lost. Not letting them steal our memories, the arsehats.

Who: All characters in or near Mathwall
Where: wizarding London
When: April 11, the intersection of dark to dawn
What: A charm bomb, a device previously unknown to the wizarding world, goes off, trapping several people in a six-block radius in Mathwall. By locating five points of weakness, the Regulators bring the wall down.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.
Notes: Due to IJ's current issues, this thread is going up now so that people can tag it as they like, tonight and into the day. I would recommend that "reunion" RPs and the like take place in emails and get posted as separate RPs and narratives, leaving this story for the actual description of the wall coming down. Feel free to add as many subthreads as you want on!

---

The Regulators began to creep to their station, a strange crew, gathered by Quentin from those that still had the strength and the ability to use their magics. From the position on the top of the hill, he could see the wall shifting and changing, a strange black shape seeping through the exterior, causing the endless pulsing to flatten in places, the veining of the face going black. The mark where Warrington had hit was slowly turning purple, like a bruise, and it was that which he motioned to first silently, saying nothing as his wand lifted to safeguard those who ran to the knoll across, ready to hurl a spell at any countercurse that should emerge.

One by one, men and women found their places, some armed with muggle weapons, a few others holding wands. The man remained impassive, considering the tall figures of the Obliviators in the distance, ready to swoop on those within the wall like hawks. There were some accidents that the Ministry would not allow to remain in the minds of those who did not know it. And perhaps, Quentin thought with grimly set mouth, in some of those that did. He would not like to vouch for the possibility of "accidental" erasure in the failing light. On a grey, overcast dawn, it would be difficult to tell wizard from muggle with no wands or time. That would be the excuse. They'd used it before.

But his Regulators would, at least, remain untouched. He'd driven that bargain at least.

"Prepare yourselves," he said, his quiet voice carrying across hill and reverberating against the wall.

Who: Fred Holden, Nicolas Vaisey, open
What: Collapsing and de-furring
Where: Near the meat market
When: About 4 am, Thursday 10th April
Rating: G
Status: Open; Incomplete

The food situation wasn't good to begin with, by a lycanthrope required more protein than normal people. Fred couldn't eat tins of vegetables or dry rice and gain any nutritional value from it. In true big sister fashion she'd been shoving most of the meat at Trent to make sure he kept enough energy up and not really eating much. She'd eaten something, sure, and if she was human it likely would have been enough to get her by but since she wasn't human it wasn't enough. Mostly for the past sixteen hours or so she'd tried to pass it off as lazy cat syndrome, but she'd been getting weaker and she hadn't felt well. Fred wasn't actually sick because a lycanthrope couldn't actually get sick, but the exhaustion that was setting in looked remarkably like illness.

She'd been out prowling for food all night that she could bring back to the East India House. It was safer at night, even the people who were awake and keeping eyes open were terrified of the large cat. They were all scattered, which meant the numbers were thinner at night while people sought refuse and sleep. The rats were hiding, though. Or maybe they'd been mostly killed off already. Six blocks wasn't a lot of area. At this point Fred was beginning to very seriously ponder the finer points of eating recently dead human. It was meat, after all.

Once again Fred went nosing around the fish and meat markets for anything people hadn't found yet. She was hoping her nose would find something eyes hadn't yet, but it seemed to be an empty hope. She was just so tired and all she wanted was something to eat so she could hunt for a few more hours. Even the birds had wised up that there was something around hunting them.

The longer she was out the flower Fred's movements became. It was like weights were slowly being piled on top of her until she simply could not raise a paw to take another step. For a moment she wondered if it was something to do with the spell that had forced her to shift, but as her legs buckled Fred knew that wasn't it. It was because of how little she'd eaten over the past few days. Normally Fred ate almost nonstop, but she'd barely had what could pass for a mean for a normal person each day since being locked in. Shifting into her leopard form hadn't helped.

She tried to stand back up to keep going, or at least get back to the East India House, but then the pain started. It started with the snapping of her legs as the bones broke and reformed. Her spine and ribs followed suit. As much as changing into a leopard hurt, it always hurt more changing back into a human. The pain that shot through all of her bones throbbed loudly in her ears. The ringing was cut off as she fell into the blackness of unconsciousness. She'd be out at least for a few hours, just like she always was when she shifted back when the sun rose. Only she didn't usually pass out in the middle of a street and naked when the people who found her in the morning may very well try to feed her to that wall.

Who: Severus Snape, Quentin Trimble
What: Rivals discuss the status of the wall.
When: Early morning, Wednesday-Thursday transition
Where: Scamander Park
Rating: PG-13
Closed

The chair creaked beneath him, and he listened to the creaking springs of the mattress beside him as he read. It was a Muggle story, admittedly, but one that contained magic and dragons, and all that they had once suspected of wizards but had forgotten. Collective memory made myth. "Sir Palamedes paused, his dogs gone on ahead to catch a scent on the wind. The forest whispered about the man and his horse, and the beast snuffled and pawed the ground. They were lost, he realized. The stars that shown through the trees over head seemed unfamiliar, but then he considered and thought it was the magic of this place. The dogs returned, their heads lowered. The scent was lost." The book dropped, and Snape peered over his reading glasses at the figure in the bed.

Cato's breathing was slow and regular. Carefully, Snape drew a length of material back into place, setting the book beneath the flickering lamp, blowing out one at a time each of the five candles.

Shutting the door, he followed the hall to his office, and checked the book left open on his desk. There was an owl message lying atop it. Drawing a travelling cloak from a hook by the door, he exited, descended the staircase, and went out the back door of the kitchen, passing by Helena who was absorbed in a length of parchment before her. She did not look up as his shadow passed her by.

Outside, if there was an observer, they would have seen his manner change. His back straightened, his face grew cold and inexpressive. He took the glasses from his face and set them in the robe pocket. Then he apparated to Scamander Park.

Who: Christopher Warrington and a random NPC
What: Boom?
When: Wednesday, April 9, near dawn/thereafter
Where: Outside Scamander Park/Mathwell, London
Rating: PG-13? Vague descriptions of violent death.
Status: Closed, complete.



( ...blood cells pixelate and eyes dilate/and the full moon pill's got me out on the street... )

( Flying Memogram for Trimble )

Who: Anthony Goldstein and OPEN
Where: The roof of the East India building.
When: April 9th, late night
What: Anything but a damn medical examination
Rating: TBD
Status: OPEN; in progress.

He sucked in the smoke as if it would nourish him. Anthony hadn't smoked a cigarette since the war and now couldn't understand why he'd ever given them up. He'd found the pack in the street earlier in the day and had carefully tried them out. They were old and stale, not that he really minded. This was his third in a row and the tobacco was starting to make him feel heady. He strode to the edge of the building and gazed down on the blackened streets. He sighed. The Ministry would have to get them out soon or all they'd find would be rats and rotten corpses.

( From the front page of the Daily Prophet )

Who: Everrett Mac and Ky Janes
Where: An unnamed Junk Shop and the streets within the walls
When: 9th April (Day 5), around 11:30 a.m.; Later cuts to night
What: The boys are tired of sitting around in one place and decide to venture out in daylight, Ev loses his voice, and then when he's asleep, Ky twists his dreams into nightmares
Rating: R: horror aspects, character death in a nightmare sequence, and very brief kissing between two boys
Status: Complete

( and you only hear the sound of a fading distant voice. . . )

Who: Astoria Greengrass, Zacharias Smith and OPEN
Where: the wall, wizarding London
When: April 9, late afternoon
What: Astoria and Zach decide to try and take proactive measures about the wall.
Rating: TBD, probably at least R, could go high for violence, etc. -- Almost certainly will.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

"Not a wall, it's a fucking dome," Zach said as his eyes scanned the clear surface, watching as the sun throbbed off it. Glistening like wet glass, it seemed to stretch on for forever and the artist bit his lip as he took another, hesitant step closer. It had unnerved him more than he wanted to admit to leave Clare, Andrea and Jac under someone else's watch but after watching the way that the other wizards were clustering in the India House, he'd come to understand that- without Fred, at least - nothing was going to be accomplished simply waiting. And, with the stores as they were, they didn't have that time.

He'd gone in privately and estimated they had food to last a day. Maybe two. There were fewer and fewer animals near the perimeter.

People die of thirst in the Arctic. The thought disturbed him as he looked at the dirty snow, wondering how long before water, too, became an issue. His feet scuffed the pavement as he thought to himself that they might as well have been in the Pole, as isolated as they had become. He watched Astoria for a moment, before saying, "Looks like glass. Wonder if anyone's tried heat, than ice. Course, we don't have any fucking ice but cold. Something cold. Works on glass. That's how you break it without shattering."

Who: Lo Desmarais and Malcolm Baddock
What: Yes, Malcolm, it’s your only option. Deal.
When: Tuesday, April 8, 2008. After meeting with Charlie outside the wall.
Where: Scamander Park
Rating: TBD
Status: Closed, incomplete.

Wizarding government. This was certainly interesting, and definitely something new for Lo. If she had the luxury of taking the time to process things, she would have even been impressed. As it was, she was running. That speed and endurance that she had exhibited to Charlie only minutes ago showed no signs of stopping as she ran through the grounds surrounding the Regulator’s building, and it was literally at the drop of a hat that she stopped at the front entrance before crashing into it as such speed that the force from her body would have probably knocked the door down. But that was what one called a bad first impression.

It actually took her by surprised when she couldn’t hear the click of heels on the floor as she walked, but Lo remembered that, actually, she was wearing tennis shoes that day. For practicality purposes. There didn’t seem to be a front desk of sorts, but she stopped the first person she saw in the corridor and asked them to direct her to where Malcolm Baddock might be. Which was how she found the War Room.

“Malcolm?” She asked after pushing the door open slightly, tapping on the wood to get whoever was inside’s attention. “Charlie Weasley sent me.”

Who: Lo Desmarais and Charlie Weasley and OPEN
What: When a friend of a friend is a vampire who might just be your only way to get information from inside the wall, you put any reservations and prejudices aside.
When: Tuesday, April 8, 2008. Following Charlie's journal entry.
Where: Base camp
Rating: TBD
Status: Closed, incomplete.

Lo was running from her camp at the west edge of the wall to where the Regulators had settled. Running, not as humans ran, but with speed that could only be defined as supernatural. She was as fast as a car, with reflexes that allowed her to dodge objects at a millisecond's notice. When Lo had told Charlie she would meet him in two minutes, she was being serious - in fact, it took her a little less than that.

"Who's Charlie?" She asked once she came to a halt, calling out at the base's perimeter, unable to go any further thanks to the wards that had been put up. There were a few people milling around, but none of them were paying her any attention. "Someone - find me Charlie Weasley." But no, no one moved. The idiots.

Who: Christopher Warrington & Malcolm Baddock
What: A meeting during which Chris tries very, very hard not to freak out
When: Tuesday, April 8, 2008 - midday, shortly after Malcolm's note to the Regulators and Chris' reply.
Where: Scamander Park
Rating: PG? PG-13ish?
Status: Closed, incomplete.



Chris had watched Smith's scrawl as it raced across the page, the final word half-formed, half-finished, and then it had gone dark, gone black, blank - the only connection he had to his family blinked out of existence. He waited. He kept himself calm. He told himself to breathe.

By noon he couldn't take the silence anymore. Chris wasn't thinking in terms of theory or legal consequences, he couldn't think at all. His sister, his niece - they were stuck inside that bloody wall and something had happened that cut off communication. No one from inside was posting anything at all, they weren't writing, and he had promised.

Walking into Scamander Park, he tracked Baddock down, then waited until they were alone - it was a singularly lucky moment. The other man had been swamped, he knew, organising everything. "Now," he said, voice tense, expression strained. He tried to convey a sense of calm, but he knew his mask wasn't quite so flawless as it typically was. "Tell me what we know now. Any change? Anything at all. Did we do something while trying to get the wall down that cut off communication? Because the journals went dead. Smith's stopped mid-sentence. They've lost their magic. I think - that's what he was saying, writing. Baddock, tell me what we know." I promised.

( From the front page of the Daily Prophet )

Who: All characters in the India House inside Mathwall
Where: wizarding London
When: April 8, just before dawn
What: A charm bomb, a device previously unknown to the wizarding world, goes off, trapping several people in a six-block radius in Mathwall. Clare finds a doll in one of the rooms and starts to play with it. Charms happen.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.


"Hou, hou, krávy dou, nesou mlíko pod vodou, nesou mlíka půl žejdlíka..." Clare sang as she cradled the doll that she'd found in her arms, her voice soft so that she didn't wake Zach and the others. The girl stood up, her feet brushing the floor as she sang the song that she'd slowly become used to hearing as she fell asleep, Zach's scratchy voice like a record player skipping over foreign sounds. "A ta naše jalovička..."

As she sang, she tugged a small patch of fabric over the doll's face. Its left eye was cracked, the glass splintered into a star. Clare kissed its temple, brushing the hair away from its face, as she breathed, hugging it harder. Kneeling, she found a spot next to Zach and sat there with her legs folded, watching him sleep with worried eyes.

( Warded to Regulators )