Regulation and Control

Who: Malcolm Baddock and
Where: War Room, Scamander Park
When: April 5, late at night
What: Malcolm is holding down the fort. It's late at night, and he's waiting for a coffee delivery.
Rating: TBD
Status: OPEN; in progress.

Dark had fallen, but they weren’t any closer to a solution. The theories they had developed were all so fallible. Everything was so dependent on what was happening inside the walls. The reports they had received thus far were anything but satisfactory, frankly, but then what had he been expecting? Nobody really knew what it was that he was looking for, and perhaps whatever he was looking for wasn’t there. He hadn’t expected things to move so… slowly. The situation seemed to have been rather stagnant for entirely too long. There was still no penetration into the wall. There was still no idea from where it had come.

Trimble had been gone for hours, it seemed, and that worried Malcolm. It meant the Ministry was just as confused as how to handle the issue. None of them had been on the receiving end of something like this, and of course nobody had bothered to test it properly the first time. It wasn’t mentioned much in the books, he found, either. And that made Malcolm imagine the worst possible outcomes.

He had sent more than half of the team to get some rest. They would need to be ready to get some serious work done on this tomorrow. Progress would need to be made before the situation worsened. It was already a emergency, and the last thing they needed was a full-blown crisis. And so he sat with a quill in his hand, circling relevant passages in books and scribbling occasional notes on the map. How could they best manage their resources? How could they best position Regulators to best handle the situation?

He looked up upon hearing a noise--he had sent for coffee earlier and had been waiting for a good amount of time.

Who: Astoria Greengrass
What: Not joining the throng at Zwemmer's
When: Saturday night
Where: The market area of Mathwall
Status: Closed & complete

Astoria had separated from the other girl not long after the greening of everyone and everything inside the wall. While people were still dealing with the dying man in the wall and trying to find their way out, she'd ducked inside a clothing shop and "borrowed" a full-length cloak with a hood and some gloves. Since she had no idea how long they were going to be stuck in here, and no idea how long she was going to be green and furry, she wanted all the protection she could get. She also picked up a pair of very sharp shears, which she pocketed.

When she wrote in her journal, she didn't mention to anyone that she was green or furry. When Draco wrote back, she was sure she'd been right to do so.

After sunset, Astoria came out of the back of the clothing shop where she'd hidden and made her way to the food markets, ducking into alleys every time she thought she was seen.

The first store she found sold fruit. Yes, it was theft, just like the cloak, but her father and Elliot had died in Knockturn Alley and she meant not to follow their example. She picked up a basket and filled it with apples--those would stay good for several days if a random spell didn't make them inedible. She thought about oranges and added a few of them as well. Some of her mother's lessons in household management were going to do her good.

Then she went to the vegetable market and rooted through the stalls for carrots, peas, mushrooms, everything she could think of that was safe raw.

She considered the meat and fish stalls, but she didn't know how to cook without spells and if there were random spell effects, Astoria didn't want to start another one. Plus, it wasn't like she'd have a chance to bathe and get the meat juice--she refused to think of it as blood because she didn't want to think of the man who'd died in the wall this afternoon--out of her fur.

When Astoria left the food market, it was in the opposite direction from the bookstore. She'd meet up with the wizards who'd written in the journals later, under her own terms, when she had something to offer.

Who: Jacqueline and Andrea Warrington-Hollins & Zacharias Smith
What: A mutated, green octopus, some desperate attempts at protection, and a rescue
When: After dark, April 5
Where: An abandoned shop near a body of water inside Mathwell
Rating: PG-13ish?
Status: Closed, incomplete.



They'd been in the park when the wall came up and things had been an absolute mess ever since. Warding charms attracted precisely the sort of people she was trying to keep away and that had led to something of a desperate dash through allies she never would have normally even considered walking near, most especially not with her daughter.

And then they'd turned green.

After finding a safe place - as safe a place as she thought she could find, anyway, without having any other spells rebounding - she'd set about trying to calm Andi down. Her daughter had cried herself to sleep, though, because she didn't want to be a grasshopper, they were ugly and she hated green. She was currently peering out the windows of the shop - it was Muggle, she thought - but she couldn't see any movement. There seemed to be some food in the back room of the place, which was all well and good...

Hearing movement from the back of the shop, she whirled around wand raised despite the fact that she'd seen how charms and spells weren't working. She inched forward, putting herself between the scrabbling sound and Andi. It took her by surprise when the front window shattered and a heinously green, slightly fluorescent creature began inching across the broken glass toward her daughter.

The spell left her lips before she could think about it, before she considered - remembered - and she found herself bound instead of the creature. Bound so tightly, in fact, that she found it difficult to breathe. She was toppling to the floor before she could do more than half-scream Andi's name, praying the little girl would wake up, would run - would have some chance.

Who: Christopher Warrington
What: Somebody returns to London ahead of schedule
When: Late Saturday, April 5
Where: Scotland, then London
Rating: G
Status: Closed, complete.
Note: Short, because Chris won't let me write about how he's actually panicking.


( ...there's nothing here to run from - cause yeah, everybody here's got somebody to lean on... )

Who: Any who stayed the night at Zwemmer's, and any who enter this morning
Where: Zwemmer's bookstore, wizarding London
When: April 6th, early morning
What: Yuri stays in the shop the night with the others, and wakes the next morning.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

The sounds of riot outside thankfully did not bring people close to the windows very often, though objects had occasionally been thrown or tossed up against them during the night. They were very likely charmed, since a metal wheel from someone's street cart hadn't made a scratch on it. The doors were open, though, and the knowledge had kept Yuri waking on the hour. If Zach had returned during the night, Yuri had not noticed him. The girl was curled next to him, his jacket beneath her head. He'd tucked his hands into his sleeves and wrapped his arms around himself, resting his head on a very large index of Potions ingredients. If anyone needed to cross-reference the ingredients to a Cheering Charm, they'd first have to wake him up.

Around five o'clock in the morning, Yuri's eyes opened slowly. He'd forgotten who all had come in that night and he sat up, leaning dazedly against the bookshelf next to him. One yawn; two. Then a scraping sound from across the room woke him up. The shadows of the room seemed to have condensed in one spot, shaping into the form of a man. It breathed, or crackled, or made some strange, rhythmic noise that made the hairs on the back of Yuri's neck stand on end. A spirit?

Yuri, keeping his eyes on the creature, very slowly reached his hand around to Clare's face- he did not touch her, but he shielded her eyes if she should wake up. He did not know that he was not breathing, his whole body tensed like a taut bowstring.

The creature moved- it's entire body was shadow, formless, light absorbing, so Yuri could not tell if its head had turned to look at him or what had happened. Then the head fluttered like a black curtain, and Yuri could see forms moving in it like bodies through smoke and fog or reflections in droplets of oil. Moving very slowly, too shocked to tremble, Yuri withdrew a short, slender piece of white chalk from his pocket and began to draw on the floor, murmuring clumsily in antiquated Russian.

In between the muttering of the ward, Yuri's voice cracked into whispers, "Sviat, sviat, sviat ghospod... savaoff..." Holy, holy, holy Lord... God of power and might.

The creature slid suddenly along the bookcases, it's black legs moving like lines drawn by a child. One of its hands clutched a wand. The door opened, and it hissed like vapor into the night.

Yuri leapt up and followed after it, sliding the lock firmly shut on the front door to the shop.

Who: All characters in the Regulator Base Camp outside Mathwall
Where: wizarding London
When: April 6, early evening
What: A charm bomb, a device previously unknown to the wizarding world, goes off, trapping several people in a six-block radius in Mathwall. The Regulators have formed a base camp outside the area. Little do they know that spies have snuck in to try and determine provenance of the case.
Rating: TBD, could go high for violence, etc.
Status: OPEN; in progress.

"Arm wrestling," Dudley muttered with a sigh. "You want to go for it? Best two out of three?" He wrenched a gaze over his shoulder at Charlie. He wasn't sure where Draco had gotten to but the heavier man decided it was best not to know. It had been a long night, indeed, and after spending hours of reading little but Witch Weekly's back catalogue and the crumpled pages of old Prophet articles, Dursley didn't think he could take much more. He stood up, heels digging into the ground so hard that the soil began to rise under his trainers, digging neat dark grooves in the grass in front of the tent.

Then the sudden crack of a branch interrupted the sullen silences of the men in the tent. His hand reached out for the gun he'd left on the table, eyes jumping to Charlie's as he waited to see what the other man would do. Whispering so quietly it was barely audible, Dudley said, "Maybe I'm just nervous."

Who: Malcolm Baddock and the theorists on the outside
Where: War Room, Scamanader Park
When: April 6th (day 2), mid-morning
What: More theorizing and discussion and crisis management.
Rating: TBD
Status: OPEN; in progress.

"It's a good thought," Malcolm nodded as he sipped on his coffee cup. The dark circles under his eyes stood out against his somewhat pale skin. "But I don't know that we should take that initiative. Let the Muggles try to use bombs; if we use them, it creates a public relations crisis that we don't need to deal with. And besides," Malcolm glanced down at his map, "there's potential damage to a lot of infrastructure--both theirs and ours--if we take that route."

But at least he had come up with something rational. Someone had earlier posed the idea of casting a Vanishing Charm on the wall--which was a wonderful idea, but it had been suggested the day before and had little effect. And besides, that was such a rudimentary idea that there had been no doubt in Malcolm's mind that it had been tried before.

He glanced at his watch out of habit. Trimble had still not appeared. He had only gotten four hours of rather restless sleep around 2 a.m., assuming that there would be no major catastrophes for those four hours. And besides, everyone had already turned green an hour earlier, so there was bound to at least be a respite from the trouble.

( Owl post to Dexter Cadwallader at Scamander Park )

Who: Fred Holden
What: The charm bomb gives her a potential hide out while Fred is on the prowl for a place for everyone to camp out
Where: Northwest area of Mathwall where the Lloyd's Building is was.
When: Late afternoon, 6th April
Rating: PG
Status: Closed; Complete

It would have been the safer thing to do, staying put, but Fred knew she could handle herself. Staying inside also made her pace like a caged animal, which she was. Fred didn't like cages, even big ones. It was the exact reason she'd never gone public with what she was. Being stronger, faster and better at climbing meant she could be useful as she prowled. Fred broke into houses to rifle through the medicine cabinets and nicked anything that could be of use for Anthony or anything that was food that'd keep. She came across some meat in one house that was good but would spoil soon. The raw steak dangled from her teeth as she climbed up or down things and she tore it apart to eat whenever she was walking. Some bloke was crazy enough to try to fight her for it. Fighting a leopardess for her prey wasn't a good idea when you weren't a larger, stronger predator than she was. He was lucky she didn't rip his throat out and make him into a meal as well.

There were a couple buildings that might work, but she didn't like how easily she got into them. There were too many windows too near other buildings and the like. Too many entrances. People were getting crazy and the deafening caterwauling charm that went off when she was walking through the centre of the enclosed area didn't help. Everyone else covered their ears and curled up in a ball because it was loud, but Fred was sure it'd make her own ears bleed. The wailing was all she could hear and it pierced her mind like a thousand needles.

Fred had to go running for anywhere that would help muffle the sound. It seemed centralised, though, and the further she got the quieter it was. Until she got to Lloyd's Building, anyway. The screaming of the caterwauling charm was completely drown out by the sound of the explosion caused by a Confringo charm hitting the building. Fred had dropped to the ground on her stomach before she even saw what was going on. Glass, metal, stone, and dry wall went everywhere. The people who had been nearby went running everywhere, because they were idiots. A body fell next to Fred and when she went to look she noticed half the head was gone, likely taken off by a projectile of some sort. "Hello dinner."

A heavy piece of metal came down on Fred's head, wrenching a small yelp from her. When her hand came up to rub the area it found wetness and came away covered in blood. "Fucking lovely." Her half a raw steak was now covered in dirt from her dive to the ground but Fred began to tear at it with a passion. She needed the fuel to heal that. Noticing everything was quiet, Fred stood up. She had cuts all over her arms, her legs and likely on her back as well. Her clothing was torn up from it and blood trickled down her in rivulets. The air stung at the cuts, but it wasn't anything too bad. Picking glass out of her skin wasn't any fun, though.

She'd been so busy figuring out how extensive her injuries were that Fred hadn't noticed the rubble was moving at first. What had been Lloyd's Building was rebuilding, but it wasn't building the same thing. The rubble didn't even look the same. Instead it formed a large building of brick. A couple centuries prior the East India House had stood in that location. It was demolished nearly a century ago. Now it was reforming before Fred's eyes, knitting itself together much like her smaller cuts already were.

"Jesus bloody Christ." On the bright side, it was sturdy, right? It was also formed from another random spell. Whether or not it could be trusted she wasn't sure. It wasn't long before the finished building stood before her. Gnawing on the last bit of steak she had, Fred made the decision that she was going in. It was the best place they'd find if it was safe. That was a big if. Standing there wasn't going to do any good, though, so in Fred went to survey the stone structure.

Who: Astoria and OPEN
What: Deciding to meet up with the Zwemmer's crew
Where: Inside Mathwall
When: Sunday day
Rating: R for gore and needle squick

( ... something slimy touched her leg ... )

Who: Anyone who wants somewhere safe to hole up
What: Sanctuary and organisation
Where: East India House on Leaden Hall St
When: After sunset, 6th April
Rating: TBD, potential for violence exists
Status: Open; Incomplete

Fred was listening closely inside of the large stone building. It was completely empty so movements sent echoes easily heard even by humans through the structure. She'd found a chef's knife in a house earlier in the day and sat in the doorway whittling sticks so they had points at one end. Very sharp points. It wasn't much, but it was a weapon if someone inside really needed one.

She had decided she was going to stand sentry and no one was getting into the building without passing her or Trent. Anyone shady or who smelt off wasn't getting inside. People needed to be kept safe and in order for that to be possible everyone who they let in needed to be safe. People whose fear level was too high were likely to snap and go crazy. People like that didn't need to be let in. People who weren't actually people weren't getting past her either. So she sat and she waited. She figured people could hang out in the atrium right behind her until everyone was there that they were expecting and then they could lock the front doors, which did actually have a few bolt locks on them, and go up to the top floor together.

( Warded Owl to Malcolm Baddock )

Who: Anthony Goldstein and Nicolas Vaisey
Where: Zwemmer's bookstore, wizarding London
When: April 6th, dusk
What: Nicolas was beat up and mugged and needs some healing from Anthony.
Rating: PG for medical stitching
Status: Closed; complete

( i'm bleeding and broken, though i've never spoken i come undone in this mad season. . . )

( Heavily Warded Owl to Malcolm Baddock )

( Owl to Tiresias Imago, Head of Unspeakables, copied to Q. Trimble )