From the Ashes

Who: Gabe and Jon
Where: Gabe's office
When: Saturday morning
What: double, double toil and trouble?


It was really kind of dark down in the basement and there's a moment when Jon's decided that wandering down in the bowels of the castle maybe wasn't such a good idea, even it it was for a good cause (hopefully). That thought's confirmed half a second later, when something brushed against his leg. Half a second later after that, Tom's wet nose made a smear across Jon's palm and had him shouting, "Jesus, Tom, warn a guy!"

Once his heartbeat had settled down, Jon glared down at the dog and said, "Just for that you should tell me where Saporta's office is." Tom huffed and sat down instead. Pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, Jon tried again, "Tom, come on." The dog settled onto his belly and then flopped over onto his side. Maybe Jon shouldn't have stopped drinking, at least then he'd have a real reason for his headache. A minute later, he finally muttered, "Please." Tom was up and off like a shot before Jon had finished.

He was more than a little out of breath when he rounded the last corner to see Tom sitting in front of a nondescript door. "This is it?" he weezed. Tom yipped and settled back down onto the floor, resting his head on crossed paws. All right then.

Jon raised a hand and knocked on the door. A minute later, when no one answered, he tried again, louder this time. "Saporta? You here?"

WHO: Adam and William
WHERE: the library
WHAT: Researching? Being a general nuisance? Who knows, really...
WHEN: Saturday morning (10/10)

It was so early that Adam wasn't even sure that William was in the library when he slipped in and made his way back to the restricted section. He was armed and ready, with pens and paper and a thermos of black, black, oh so black, coffee, ready to spend the morning and probably the majority of the day reading things in hopes that he'd find something useful, since he'd been barred by Pete-the-Dickface from working on the academic meet, lest Adam stereotype people. Perhaps Pete was a raging idiot.

He grabbed a couple of books off the shelf and settled to the floor with his back against the wall, the light from the windown helpfully shining in and illuminating the page as he flipped through, sipping directly from the thermos, his puffskein pretending it was climbing mountains while it rolled around down near his feet.

At least he'd probably be left well enough alone, out of sight, and in the restricted section no less. He really hoped that something would point the way toward helping find a cure, because he really, really wanted his magic back. He also really wanted a shave, and to hex someone's nose off. But mostly just a shave. That much beard was starting to itch. He scratched absently as his eyes scanned the page, completely oblivious to the idea that there might be anything going on around him.

Who: Gabe and William
Where: Gabe's alchemical laboratory
When: Friday, nearing midnight
What: The search for a cure

William received Gabe's note from a harried-looking owl as soon as he stepped out of Joe's suite, which probably meant the message had been waiting for a while. The messenger was also Gabe's personal owl, which meant that she probably had another half-dozen deliveries to make tonight after this one. "Sorry," he murmured to the bird, but he didn't have any treats in his pockets, so he got nipped anyway when he took the letter.

It was almost midnight and he was exhausted, as they all were this week, but anything coming from Gabe was a priority and William had volunteered. "Want a ride back down?" he offered in a last-ditch attempt to placate the ruffled owl. He received a baleful look and distinctly unimpressed hoot in response, but she fluttered up onto his shoulder a minute later and only dug her claws in slightly once he started walking, so he considered himself forgiven.

Gabe's door was closed, so William rapped on it lightly before he entered. The owl took off as soon as he pushed the door open, winging over to a more comfortable perch. William closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, looking at Gabe.

"You summoned?"

(Pinned to the staff noticeboard around Thursday lunchtime)

COMRADES!

1) I need a guinea-pig. Cute and furry not necessary (but always charming). MUST have first-hand experience with Bathory's Curse - don't know if you call it that in this country, but if you've swallowed it, you'll know about it.
1a) Failing that, I need someone willing to observe, adjust and possibly respond while I guinea-pig myself.
2) I need an assistant who still has the ability to cast--
No item 2! Pretend nothing happened! Move along!

- GS

WHO: Adam and Pete
WHERE: The Staff Lounge
WHAT: Organizing academic activities for magic-less students.
WHEN: Friday afternoon (10/9)

Adam tapped his pen against his teeth. It was kind of an obnoxious noise, since he was rocking a Muggle pen after discovering that quill-and-ink sucked since he couldn't magically siphon ink-blots off the page when he got distracted or started daydreaming and left his quill to linger on the paper for too long. It was just better this way.

"Explain this seating thing to me again, then?" he asked Pete, sliding the latest set of questions he'd been scribbling up across the table for Pete's review. He'd spent all the time he wanted researching in a pseudo productive manner... when he'd more-or-less have preferred to sleep. Now they were just trying their best to keep the students amused. Not that this was really the best idea they could've come up with, but the students needed to learn, and the teachers needed to not go crazy, and. At least one of those things was likely to be accomplished. Adam wasn't really sure which one, however.

who Mikey, Ryland, & Pete
what totally plot-less hangs!
where Pete's room!
when Wednesday? *hands*

In Mikey's defense, there wasn't a sock on the door, and it's not exactly like he interrupted anything, not really. Anyway, they'd stopped making out a whole minute before Mikey knocked—Pete swore he'd heard the sinister ruffling of owl feathers and the last thing he needed at the moment was to magicless and have pecked-out eyeballs—so it wasn't even like there was heavy breathing.

"Come in," Pete called absently; there was a dark corner over behind his closet door that seemed just shadowy enough to conceal a jealous, confrontational owl. "As long as you're human. And not a student!"

Who: Patrick and Pete
Where: Pete's quarters
What: Patrick is head of the Cheer-Up brigade


"This... this is actually a set of charms I did for these kids in Finland. They were in an orphange and-- Okay. You don't want to know about that part because it's actually really depressing. But it was one of my first few jobs and I got guard duty."

Patrick was sitting in a chair next to Pete's bed, wand poised to do the first charm before he thought better of it.

"Hold out your hand for me?" he asked. "It's easier if it has a starting point."

who William & Pete
where Pete's quarters
what William's precise pronunciation?
when sometime. I don't know. A time appropriate for this!

Sure, he was finally so tired that he could barely convince himself to get out of bed to piss, but that didn't mean he was going to lie in the damn infirmary with all of the other sick, whiny people.

Instead, he was in bed. He'd had a fairly steady stream of visitors (the Professors were one thing, but he was still a little skeeved out by his NEWT students showing up), and the most recent was one of his most favorite.

"Tell me you brought TeenWitch," he said, rolling over and tucking a hand under his newly shorn head. "I would derive some sick comfort for reading the horribly awkward personal stories section."

Who: Everyone
Where: The Staff Lounge
When: Tuesday morning
What: Emergency staff meeting

William came straight from London to the staff meeting, arriving just as the clock was ticking over to 8 AM. The amount of information collected in the archive was vast, and he'd worked through two nights to look at as much of it as possible, not wanting to waste any time. Whatever the students had was getting worse, and still spreading. Over the week and a half since they'd first noticed it, at least four dozen students had developed magic fatigue and an increased inability to perform spells. The affected first- and second-years were all but Muggles. He didn't even know that a quarantine would help them at this point, but that was undoubtedly one of the things they were here to discuss.

Most of the seats were taken when he arrived, and the number of people in the room meant that the way to the sideboard was blocked. He cast a pleading look at Pete for a cup of tea, settling in the corner and shuffling his notes out of the way so he could draw a small vial out of the pocket of his robe; one which Gabe probably shouldn't see. If he was going to get through the day, though, he needed something slightly stronger than caffeine.

"How are the students?" he asked, glancing around the room and blinking back the threatening exhaustion. "Any change?"

( Owl to Auror Way )

( Owl to Auror Stumph )

( Owl to Mr. Beckett )

( Owl to Mr. Valdes )

(  Owl to Professor Trohman )

(  Owl to Professor Lazzara )

(all signed)
Sincerely,
Headmaster Schechter

(posted early Sunday morning)

All Staff:

Due to the critical magical situation with the students, all classes on Monday are CANCELED at this time. Monday is to be considered a study day for all four Houses. Extracurricular activities will continue as scheduled and all school facilities will be available for use, with the sole exception of the library. Please contact me with any concerns. This should give staff time to concentrate on finding a cause, treatment, and cure for this disease. Should the students ask, this is merely an opportunity for them to catch up on homework and studies, and one which they should take advantage of while they have it.

Sincerely,
Headmaster Schechter

WHO: Adam and Gerard
WHERE: Hogwarts Infirmary &c.
WHAT: Adam totally doesn't have whatever the kids have. Seriously. He's fine, officer, he's never done anything bad in his life!
WHEN: Afternoon, Sunday. (September 27)


[Owl to Gerard Way, shortly after lunch, Sunday]

Gerard,
My suspicions were correct; I am nearly cured by a good night's sleep. Please spring me from the infirmary, ASAP.
- Adam
PS: I have a ritual that I'd like to do to ensure my health and well-being, if you'd like to join me/watch/learn. That sounds dirty. I apologize.

((OOC: I'm jumping into next week early by a day. Keep on trucking for this week, however. I'm just jumping the gun a smidge in order to get the ball rolling.))

Staff--

As many of you already know, approximately twenty students have now been struck by magical fatigue. Most of the students originally showing symptoms were in the lower grades, but as of this morning, a few seemingly unrelated N.E.W.T students also started showing symptoms. The exact cause is currently unknown. We also don't know whether or not it is contagious or just taking longer to show in the older, more experienced students.

If you see any students who are exhibiting symptoms of magical fatigue, please escort them to the infirmary. If you have any relevant information that may help us pinpoint the cause of the issue, you can contact me by owl.

-Auror Way

Who: Dallon and Gerard.
What: Gerard continues his interrogations.
When: Saturday evening.
Where: Dallon's quarters

Gerard was on a roll, and he was coming to the end of his list of people to talk to. After speaking with Adam he was starting to think he might know what was going on, but he had to be sure before taking any sort of action.

Dallon was next, and while he hadn't heard anything about him feeling sick, it would be good to check up on him, especially since he had arrived late to the castle in the first place, which might give him a better idea when and where the sickness had come from. Light was streaming into the hall from beneath Dallon's door, which was a good sign that he was home. He knocked lightly, pausing before asking, "Professor Weekes?" He'd thought about just 'Dallon', but that was too familiar for someone he'd met only once, and he was on official business, and everything.

Right. Now was not the time to be distracted.

Who: Adam and Gerard.
What: Gerard interrogates! Politely.
When: Saturday afternoon.
Where: Adam's rooms.

Gerard had, by Friday night, made a fairly comprehensive list of the people to speak with about the magically fatigued students. Whether it was some form of magical illness or a classroom activity gone wrong, something had to be done to find out how far its reach was and whether or not it would spread to anyone else in the castle.

As he'd promised the Headmaster, he took precautions by wearing gloves throughout the day as he spoke to people. Just in case. It sparked a little bitterness in him, of course, even though it was such a minor concession--just one more reminder that he would never be able to do his job in quite the same way another auror would. But it was chilly enough already, thankfully, that the gloves wouldn't look entirely out of place.

Halfway through his rounds of the castle, speaking to students and teachers alike, he heard whispers about Professor Lazarra had behaved strangely on the Quidditch pitch, and those whispers were more than enough to pique his interest. He'd planned on talking to Adam at some point or another since once of the students afflicted had been in a class of his, but now he had even further reason to pay him a visit.

He was at his rooms by late afternoon, and knocked briskly on his door. "Professor Lazarra? Are you in?"

yo bilvy-

caught a note from one of my fourth years, drea alexander, today, gossiping about the herbology professor passing out in the library wednesday afternoon??? is spence okay? he's been looking a little worn out and then schechter posted the notice about all the students with magical fatigue - is it related? has spence said anything?

oh yeah, do you know of any wizard who's done any extensive studying of puffskeins? i owled an old professor, but thought you might be able to help too. -jjw-