Regulation and Control

Who: Nicolas Vaisey and Blaise Zabini (NPC)
What: A morning ride and conversation--and no, not that sort you pervs
When: [Backdated] July 5th 2008
Where: Zabini Manor and Estate
Rating: PG
Status: Closed; complete

( And so, if I am willing to overlook such I should think you can do the same. )

( Owl to Charlie Weasley, Scamander Park )

( Owl to Professor Severus Snape )

Who: Harry Potter, Fred Holden, Charlie Weasley, Malcolm Baddock (?)
What: The doppelganger meets its end.
When: July 8th, early morning
Where: A clearing in the woods a few miles outside Ottery St. Catchpole
Rating: R, to be safe, for violence, language, and scary content

Ottery St. Catchpole was a wizarding village, and it was there that the doppelganger procured another wand. The woman was aged, and died before it could bind her to it as it had with Harry, but there was enough of her in her magic that the wand responded to its touch. It did not wear her face, but left her in her house for her ancient husband to wake to.

The night deepened, and the creature set off to the place it knew from memory only. As it ascended the hillside, the tiny lights from the village flickered, their light reaching the shadow as pinpricks only. It was alone, then.

Once it reached the apex of the hill, it was clear that something was wrong. The night was silent, but it sensed the sudden burst of magic, somewhere. An alarm?

( Patronus message to Fred Holden )

Who: Finn McGill and NPC/dead person Marjory Lovejoy
What: A lover's quarrel over something most lovers don't have to deal with.
When: Mid July 1997
Where: Marjory's bedroom
Rating: R for language and nudity.

( Finn...that's not how I meant it. )

Who: Trent Smith and Lavender Brown
What: Badgering. But without badgers. Woe.
Where: Diagon Alley
When: 8th July, afternoon
Rating: TBR
Status: Open; incomplete

Diagon Alley was never as busy straight after lunch as it was during the rest of the afternoon and for that Lavender was extremely grateful as she walked down the street, her steps quicker than just about everybody elses on the street. It really wasn't her fault that everybody seemed to move at a snail's pace, though that was a slight exaggeration. But only a slight one, she decided, as she stepped around a small group in suits with collars so tight it looked they were trying to strangle themselves with them.

Ducking into the doorway of the nearest apothecary, Lavender avoided tripping over what looked like a box of body parts, though she was sure that only because she'd spent the night watching far too many horror movies for one person's own good, and walked up the counter, smiling widely in greeting. "Okay, so what's the best potion to use to make vegetable gardens grow that's not going to make me gag everytime I open it?" she asked. "That's a rather large problem, you know. I don't know if anybody's ever told you lot but most of the potions in this joint smell a bit funky."

Who: Jane Doe and the spirit of Fionn Carpathian
What: Fionn has unfinished business to deal with before he can move on. Jane's a new sort of project.
When: Tuesday, July 8 2008. Afternoon.
Where: Department of Mysteries/the streets of London
Rating: PG

( If Fionn Carpathian ever needed a good enough reason to believe in life after death, this was it. )

Who: Rabbit Tuor and Katie Jones
What: A random, though not chance, encounter.
When: Sunday, July 6 (Backdated)
Where: London, England
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; complete – sorry this is so long, y’all

Part one of two

She woke up to the ringing of her mobile, heavy in the pocket of the sweatshirt now damp with dew. The sky was just beginning to break, faint rays of light poking through the clouds in an area so grey that it was hard to tell whether or not night had ever existed. The woman's fingers slipped inside her pocket and snapped the phone open, staring at the number. It was followed by a text, then a clapping as the case closed.

Her toes wiggled, cracking spots of brilliant green where the nails peeked around the leather of her sandals. With a yawn, she kicked them off, tugging them into her hand and pushing down on the cold concrete to wake herself.

The trains stopped running at around three, began again at five-thirty, and it was their absence that told her the time. Curling up into the bench, she watched the few figures that lingered near the station doors, like ghosts moving across the streets, her slowly awakening eyes finding them ephemeral against the faltering light of the morning, cut as it was by streetlamp and shadow. Her fingers flexed, feeling the cold against them, and she pushed herself up straighter, slapping her face just slightly to force a bit of energy into it.

( You can be alone in your head, but be in the middle of the world... )

Who: Rabbit Tuor and Katie Jones
What: A random, though not chance, encounter.
When: Sunday, July 6 (Backdated)
Where: London, England
Rating: PG for language
Status: Closed; complete – sorry this is so long, y’all

Part two of two

Her foot took a step closer, then shied back as the rocking of the train pushed her away. Catching herself on the handle, Katie slowly lowered herself until she was sitting on the floor again, the ground a few feet below them both, grass blurring into a line of continuous green as they moved through the country. She would have liked to hug him as he told her that and she realized with a sudden shock that only the jolting of the train had prevented it. Folding her arms over her chest, she kept watching the dirt, staring at the pebbles that kept flying up and smacking her legs.

( Is this an adventure? )

Who: Harry Potter, Matt Cavanaugh
What: The body wakes up.
When: Tuesday July 08, following the death of Not-Harry.
Where: Sebastian Capper's property
Rating: PG-13, for language. I think this is my standard rating.
Closed; Incomplete

There were stars. They shone vivid yellows and oranges against an incredible blackness, trees springing up, shooting from the bottom of Harry's field of vision and then withering away, spent fireworks of matter and form. There really was no explanation for where they had come from, for a moment or several hours before he had been standing in the darkness somewhere, over the corpse of a woman who was missing her wand. She, some form of her, had stood next to him briefly, though he had not seen her, but then she had passed him by after the dark thing had left the old house. What he wanted to know, suddenly, was how it was possible to watch a body drop, to kill it, and then walk away without knowing whether the person had gone. Harry hadn't gone.

The first sensation was incredible, indescribable cold and the feeling of freezing fire everywhere. After an incredible personal lightness, a feeling of being Other, the sudden feeling of matter and being was incredibly vague and foreign. When he tried to move his arm, it felt unbearably heavy.

The body had sat at the temperature of its surroundings for so long, several degrees below body temperature, and the first thing that happened was all the smooth muscles in his hair fibers contracted, and Harry got goosebumps. The lips that had been waxy and white contorted, the flesh of his lips a deep purplish blue, as were his fingers and toes. His body, wrapped only in the sheet from the morgue, began trembling violently and Harry's frosted over eyes closed with the first breath that felt as cold and as harsh as the first breath of life, when the lungs learn in a split second how to take in air for themselves.

Harry turned on his side, curling into a fetal position and pressing his shivering hands to his chest and his knees beneath them. The blood beat like syrup at this temperature, and he felt slow, stupid, and incredibly, incredibly cold.