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| Topic Started: Aug 29 2006, 03:49 PM (402 Views) | |
| + Alayna Potter | Aug 29 2006, 03:49 PM Post #1 |
& heroin e y e s
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This topic is for everyone who is in the back part of the train whether there are in compartments or the hallway. One group of Death Eaters will attack this section sometime during the RP, so be on the lookout! Feel free to post like a maniac, =P. Update Due to computer problems, Oliver Lowsley has been unable to visit the site and has asked that his position be given to someone else. Therefore, the new Minister will be Benecia Jonesy. It will be as if she had won the election, not Oliver. |
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| Stanley Potter | Sep 1 2006, 05:45 PM Post #2 |
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Thy Fake Potter
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[I don't like this post, but I need to start posting with Stanley... again. I ask that the next person wake him up. Please?] A party at the Ministry, how odd. It was a place where work is held not big parties that allowed the Hogwarts children to attend. Stanley found it rather ridiculous, but nonetheless he was on the Hogwarts Express going to the Ministry. If it was him, he wouldn’t be on that train, he would be at Hogwarts or somewhere, he couldn’t think of any at the moment. He sat alone in the back, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone since he wasn’t feeling all to comfortable nor happy that he was going to a party he didn’t even want to go to. His father – the all famous Harry Potter – ask him to be there. Of course Stanley hating his father with a passion that none of his family members understand, he said no. But when his mother asked him to be back down and told her he’ll be there even if it killed him – which he it. The fact that both his parents where in the Ministry and in the Order, not making an appearance by all the Potter children. If not, well that’s just like disgracing the Potter name. Like Stanley cared weather he or anyone else disgraced the Potter name, it wasn’t like the magical community didn’t already frown upon Stanley when he got into Slytherin and not Gryffindor. Hufflepuff like his twin brother wasn’t as of a big deal, but Slytherin. Oh no, that was not good, all Slytherin’s evil and the rest of the things Stanley heard when he first walked Diagon Ally after getting sorted. What pathetic people, there only fun and amusement for them was the Potter family. He damned his father or a second, then looked down at his Slytherin badge and smiled. He personal was happy he was sorted in to the Slytherin house – just making his father go off wondering how and why that happen was good enough for him. He sighed, sliding down his seat even more; he was tired. Too tired to even change out of his ropes and into the clothes his mother gave for him to wear. As if he was going to wear that lame suit. He wondered momentarily what she gave the other Potter children. He didn’t know about them but he wasn’t going to wear the suit. He’ll just have to live with his mother giving him the evil eye of doom. Digging his hands in to his rope pocket as the trolley lady was stand right in front of him [okay no, more to the side], the women looking rather inpatient. Purposely he took longer getting the Gallons out, it was fun to see the old lady pissed off, even if it was for a short time. Stanley just thought it was because she didn’t like to wait on others or stand every long. Either way, she was pissed off. Taking out Gallons from his pocket, he handed it over to the lady, he didn’t know how much he handed over nor cared seeing that it wasn’t even his money. The old lady in return gave him a pile of chocolate frogs. For a while now he has been collecting them. Ripping one open rather carelessly, he grave the frog the death grip before it ran away. He bit off one of its leg, enjoying the chocolate taste. Yummy goodness. As he took the chocolate frog, biting him into pieces slowly, he began to hear screams. Stanley rolled his eyes, thinking it was just girls playing around. But the screaming came closers, and foot steps where going about all the back of the train. That’s when he realized that he was at the back. Not many students go to the back to the train to sit. Stanley got up from his seat as he opened another chocolate frog, as he reached to slide the door open seeing many figures go left and right though the glass of his compartment. It wasn’t completely see though, but Stanley could see that people where running about. Before he could slide the door himself, someone else opened the door. A group of students made there way into his compartment, pushing Stanley to the back, hitting him hard on the window. Having no idea what on Earth was going on, he began to push them out of his compartment, but the other group pushed harder once again, slamming Stanley’s body on the wall, and banging his head on the window. Ouch. The hard glass broke, when it made contract with his head, he blinked a few times, seeing everything go dark and darker. His slip from his frog let lose, giving the frog a chance to get away before he could bite its head off. He sighed, losing his weight on his legs, falling over. Before he went completely out of it, he saw people running out of his compartment. He thought it was because they where afraid of him. Why? He had no clue. He sighed, closing his eyes, as a man with a mask in dark robes walked by. Before he had time to react, he was kicked in the gut by what he believed to be a Death Eater. Everything went dark, as he just lay there motionless. |
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| Rafael Cardosa | Sep 1 2006, 07:30 PM Post #3 |
Is beauty to behold
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[[I hope you don't mind me posting]] It was late. Extremely late. Night seemed to settle across the entire country as though drenching it in a heavy darkness, the small lights that adorned cobblestone streets smoldering against the pitch black night. Judging by how dark the night was, it seemed only logical that at least a hundred sparkling stars should have been twinkling in the night sky, their small rays of light making a spectacle for the people who inhabited the small cities of the country. However, that was not the case at all. In fact, barely a single star could have been seen in the sky, and the streets seemed strangely empty and unnaturally cold, as though hinting at a possible problem in the near future. However blinded they were by their own miniscule lives, most of the human population who bore witness to this most alarming night merely ignored it, scoffed as though it was a thing that was constantly heard of and went about their normal days, drawing the small, tattered curtains that were meant to protect their homes. Had any one of them decided to take notice to the particular night, take notice to the strange and cryptic warnings that had been littered through out the day, we might have had a completely different story. In fact, ours might have turned out for the better, instead of the harrowing tale that it has now become infamous for. Let us look past the small curtain drawn houses that littered the pavement of the particular country in which our story takes place, seeing as they are of little importance. Had any one of the denizens actually bothered to draw apart their curtains, they would have been witness to something strange and extravagant, as a pair of blinding white lights momentarily lit up the darkened night, as a rushing sound whirled past completely unnoticed by anyone. As though materializing out of no where, a rather sleek looking train expedited across a set of rickety wooden tracks, the dark color nearly blending in perfectly with the pitch black, had it not been for the set of powerful lights glowing from the front. The train was usually only seen in early September and in Early June, transporting a select group of ‘gifted’ students to and from a certain school. It was therefore extremely odd that the train seemed to be moving with gusto in late October, heading in fact for a government headquarters in London. Nothing too spectacular seemed to be aboard the train, seeing as it was merely a couple of thousand of students crammed onto the rows, aisles, and compartments of the trains, all talking animatedly or twiddling their fingers in complete awkward silence. In a particular compartment full to the brim with a group of the later students sat a sixteen year old boy, his head resting lightly against the glass window, feeling the cold seep through the pained glass and onto his somewhat pale skin. Finally deciding that he had enough awkwardness in one train ride to last him a lifetime, the boy released a bottled up sigh as he excused himself, assuring the other students that he would be back after he went to the bathroom. Yeah, right. Taking his time to walk down the rather barren aisles, the boy noticed how the population of students seemed to dwindle the farther he got to the back of the train. Shrugging it off the boy merely yawned, before digging his hands into his pockets, his brown eyes moving around the train looking for his sister. He wasn’t sure if he had seen her get onto the train, but then again there had been a thousand of students waiting impatiently at the gates, making it all the more likely that he had just missed her. Yawning slowly, the boy continued to walk to the back, wondering why the lights seemed to be flickering. Deciding to ignore it as a figment of his imagination, the boy continued on his walk, making up his mind to take advantage of one of the deserted compartments that littered the back of the train. However, a figure caught the attention of his brown eyes as they landed on a slightly empty glass door, the shards strewn out across the floor. Raising his eyebrow slightly, the boy hesitated, before curiosity got the better of him. Drawing out the slender piece of wood that he kept stored in his pocket, the boy muttered a simple spell as he tapped the glass, watching it spring back to place. However, the boy’s eyes caught something else, as he noticed a thick red liquid on the floor. Bending down to examine the droplets, Rafael’s stomach dropped into the pit of his stomach as the realization hit him. Blood. Not even pausing to think, Rafael ushered into the compartment, immediately collapsing by the fallen figure, shaking him hard. “Hey, Hey!” he near shouted, before he remembered that he was a wizard. Using the counter curse of the Stunning spell, Rafael revived the fallen boy before peering down at him. “You okay?” He asked, bewildered. [[Oh, I figured that no one else would have seen the Death Eaters but Mister Potter, seeing as they hadn't made their grand entrance yet]] |
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| Stanley Potter | Sep 1 2006, 08:53 PM Post #4 |
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Thy Fake Potter
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[No.] Stanley wasn’t one to just get hurt without fighting back. If he ever got beat to a pulp it wouldn’t be without the other person getting hurt as well. For a simple fourteen year old, he got frustrated to easily to just let things go. To just let people go without seeing the fist of Stanley Potter. He wasn’t the type to write a letter and sent it to the person that bothered him and hope for the best. Oh no. Stanley would much rather knock the living day lights out of the person even if it caused him to feel pain as well. He didn’t care much. As long as he inflicted some pain, he was happy. His mother disapproved of this method of his but then again he had temper issues so even if he promised he would change that bit about himself, he knew he couldn’t. Empty promises. Simple lies. That never really bothered him either. He’ll just go with his business. But now something odd happened. He was beat [sort of] until he fell and blacked out. So much for the famous, powerful, and witty Potter family. That fact just got crushed with Stanley lying on the compartment floor. Would his father ever know? Hell no. Stanley would never tell his father about what happened to him on the way to the Ministry. His story will just go to the newspaper and then everyone in the magical community would know about him. It wasn’t something he would look forward to. He could see it now. He’ll be sitting at the Slytherin table and all across the great hall would be his story. His life would once again be broadcast all over London, as if thousands didn’t already know the Potter history. It’s a reason he hated his father, and now that there fame was deceasing it’ll kill him if he raised it up again. Even though he was knocked out cold, unable to move his body he could still pretty much think. Faintly though. “You okay?” Before Stanley knew it he was somewhat better. He moved his fingers a bit even though it hurt when he did. Flicking his eyes open, he saw a figure of a boy. He squinted a bit to get a better view. His eyesight was hell at the moment. He was seeing two people instead of one. Maybe it was two people and they where simply twins. He didn’t know, but what where the chances of that? He decided it was just one person, for no appertain reason – it just made more sense to him. Stanley groan at bit, getting himself up, but holding on to the seat as he did. Doing it himself, refusing to be helped by anyone but his sister, seeing as she is the only person he’ll shows weakness to, and he wasn’t just going to show it to this guy because he helped him. As he hoisted himself up, every part of his body felt pain. Mostly his legs, chest, and head. He sat on the seat, looking around the compartment completely ignoring the boy. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose, he was just so use to blocking everyone out that he didn’t know and he was simply one of them. He wanted the boy to leave already, that’s when his eyes fell upon the stream of blood. Stanley, never like seeing blood, he twitched slightly at the very sight of it and this time was no different. Then came the little fact that where the blood came from. He quickly glanced at the boy up and down, viewing his body to if there was anything dark red that would pass on as blood. But the boy was clean. Stanley then felt a tickling sensation on the back of his neck. To him it wasn’t the greatest sign in the world, but he nonetheless touched the back of his neck. Looking at his palm he twitched again. “Crap.” Was all he managed to say at the sight of his own blood. He eyes went from the little blood stream that easily pass for a river if an ant look at it, and his hand. “No you scum. I’m not okay. I’m bleeding from my head, which by the way is not a good sign and you’re asking if I’m okay? God, what type of fool asks that when they see blood? Blood is never a good sign.” He grunted at the boy. Wow, that’s Stanley for you. Even if you help out just a bit he barks at you. He’s what you would call ungrateful. Pressing his teeth hard against each other, the pain from being anger so fast hurt him. He made a mental note not to get mad until he was better. Scanning the room once again, he stood up at that moment he felt light headed. He needed to heal his head before he died from the lack of blood. Not the way Stanley pictured the way he would go and see the light. He looked at the boy that had helped him. He noticed that the boy was much older and taller then he was himself. He didn’t care; he pissed off many older people before, mainly Sheldon. He was his sister’s ex-boyfriend. He hurt his sister, and now Stanley was out to get him. He wanted to break Sheldon’s bones. Literally. Hey, he almost did it once too. Pushing people down the stairs is so much fun, but he failed nonetheless. He walked passed the kid being careful not to slip on his own blood; standing on the entrance of his compartment he turned around and faced his savor. “Umm, thanks I guess. I’m Bobby.” His voice went from angry to soft. Bobby was the name he told people when he didn’t want them to know his first name. It wasn’t like he gave himself a new identity. No, that would be foolish. His really name was Stanley Robert Potter. So most people that are named Robert are called Bobby. Weird but true fact, plus he hates the name Stanley and prefers Bobby. Anyway he stood there, his legs giving off from his weight from time to time. His right hand was out for the kid to shake and his left hand was over his stomach. For a second he wondered how he got so much pain in his stomach. He then remembered a dark figure that had did this to him. If it wasn’t for the damn students Stanley would have fought back. But then again if it was truly a Death Eater, then he just got lucky that he wasn’t killed. Stanley just stared at the boy for a few moments before speaking in almost a whisper, there was no point seeing as the racket on the back of the train had almost stop, “Is anyone, dead? Or anything like that? Hurt? Did you see anyone else?” He didn’t know if it was because they all moved to the front or… killed. Stanley just pushed the thought out of his mind; the image of seeing dead Hogwarts students wasn’t a good one. [Well a girl is dead, and they are in the back… so I figured I’d start off like that.] |
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| Rafael Cardosa | Sep 1 2006, 09:44 PM Post #5 |
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Is beauty to behold
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“Crap,” Blood wasn’t a new thing for the boy, seeing as he had practically grown up seeing someone’s spilled blood on the streets everyday for the first ten years of his life. However, this seemed different. After all, this was Hogwarts. People didn’t just go around and simply bleed all over the place. In fact, in the boy’s six years at the school apart from the occasional quidditch game or lesson gone bad, the boy had barely witnessed a cut so savage. Despite himself, the boy could feel his memory flicker back to the home he had known five long years ago, when he had seen his own brother’s blood shed shamelessly across his shabby apartment. Feeling a wave of nausea overcome him, Rafael forced his mind to stop winding down memory lane and instead focus on the problem at hand. Watching through concerned eyes as the boy struggled to fully sit up and breathe in, Rafael could feel a strange panic build through out him, wondering if he was supposed to take care of the boy or something. After all, he looked young. At least a couple years younger than Rafael, and he was all alone. And bleeding profusely. Not good. “Oh shit,” he murmured, as the boy sat up and Rafael caught a glimpse of the blood on the back of the boys head. They needed help. Straightening up, the boy took off his blazer and threw it down to a random chair in the apartment, realizing that magic wasn’t going to help him much right now seeing as he wasn’t a qualified healer. However, the boy had lived a fairly muggle existence when he was younger, and that coupled with his experience with injured people in unpredictable situations, the boy figured that he should probably find something to compress against the other boy’s wound. Seeing as he didn’t have anything else, the only thing that seemed reasonable would be his shirt. “No you scum. I’m not okay. I’m bleeding from my head, which by the way is not a good sign and you’re asking if I’m okay? God, what type of fool asks that when they see blood? Blood is never a good sign.” Getting up and wandering around when one had an injury probably wasn’t the best idea, however Rafael was by no means the boy’s parent so he didn’t say anything as he did so. Letting his brown eyes once again skim the blood on the back of the boy’s head, Rafael’s mind quickly estimated where the cut might actually be and how much pressure would needed to be applied. Sighing, the sixteen year old realized that standing around wasn’t the best option, seeing as if he didn’t compress the wound quickly the other boy was liable to pass out, something that he wasn’t going to let happen. Running his fingers over the smooth creases of his white button down shirt, Rafael quickly started fumbling with the buttons of the bottom of his shirt, frantically trying to aid the injured boy. Scrutinizing the blood on the floor as well as remembering the shards of glass that had littered the floor, Rafael came to the conclusion that this could not be a teenagers doing. Had it been, the glass might have been banged in, but he doubted that it would have been completely broken, unless it was by an extremely well built student or someone who was extremely experienced in powerful magic. While Hogwarts held it’s fair share of powerfully intelligent wizards, himself included, he doubted that any one of them could pull of this stunt. Before he could even think any more the other boy’s comment cut across, causing Rafael to lift his brown eyes, a distinct fire rising in his chocolate orbs. Raising his eyebrows, the boy let his hands drop, staring the boy down. Was he serious? Rafael had just helped him out when he was alone and completely knocked down, and he had the nerve to say something like that? Having half a mind to simply shrug the idiot off and walk out of the compartment, Rafael bit his tongue down to repress the burning anger that was threatening to implode. Releasing a long held sigh, Rafael realized that if he left, the boy would most likely pass out. Shrugging it off, the boy finished unbuttoning his shirt before he tossed it to the other boy. “Yeah, it was a precaution. Anyways, you’re going to need to press that to your head, now. Trust me,” he commanded, turning his back to the boy as he picked up his blazer and put it back on, buttoning it in front of his bare chest. “Umm, thanks I guess. I’m Bobby.” Finally. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Rafael turned around slowly, eyeing the boy, who introduced himself as Bobby. Momentarily thanking God that the boy didn’t continue with his immaturity, Rafael realized that his patience for ignorance was reaching a boiling point, and so was glad that the young boy wasn’t going to push it. Taking Bobby’s outstretched hand, Rafael shook it with his firm grip, before letting go. “I’m Rafael. You’re going to need to sit down for a moment,” he instructed, deciding that it would be better for him to deal with the boy’s injury now so that he could actually function later, that was assuming he would actually cooperate. He was a belligerent little booger, however Rafael hoped that the fact the boy was injured and in danger of losing massive amounts of blood unless he manned up and accepted help would knock some sense into him. The raven could feel an unsettling shift through out the train, as the lights flickered again and he could hear scared whimpers in the corridors outside as wood could be heard slamming; presumably the compartment doors being slammed shut and closed. Feeling a slight adrenaline rush to his head, Rafael strode over to their own compartment, drawing out his wand and locking it, following suit of what he hoped the other students on the train had the sense to do. “Is anyone, dead? Or anything like that? Hurt? Did you see anyone else?” What the hell was the boy talking about? Rafael turned around so fast to face the boy that he was almost dizzy, his eyebrow raising. A couple of moments before everything had seemed calm and collected. And now.... well he wasn’t sure. A scream pierced the compartment, causing Rafael to turn around again, his hand resting on the compartment handle. Feeling a wave of nausea raise in him, Rafael struggled to think, to rationalize. “No, I didn’t see anyone. Everything was fine before, everyone was just in their compartments,” he explained, pressing his ear up against the smooth glass door. Making up his mind, the boy sighed as he withdrew his wand again, tapping the handle of the compartment lightly. “Stay here,” he instructed, fully aware that the boy shouldn’t move at all judging his head injury. But Rafael, he was fine. And there was no way that he was going to sit back and hear his peers panicked whispers and random screams throughout the train and not do something about it, even if he wasn’t quite sure what was scaring them so. |
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| Paris Barron | Sep 1 2006, 11:13 PM Post #6 |
close › shades & turn » lock
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[ bwhaha, the big bad Death Eater makes his entrance! …but I’m going to be gone this weekend so this’ll be the only one for a short while, =P. ] Merlin, these robes weren’t good for moving stealthily, if you asked Paris. They were too long and got caught on the edges of his boots when he tried to move fast to catch up with the other Death Eaters that were in front of him. Or perhaps he was stumbling because he had been cursed by a ruddy wench who had seen him in the Leaky Cauldron and called him a child molester. Damn Kohlah, encouraging the rumors that had been spreading about him even though they were far from true. Paris might have his way with plenty of women, but every single woman had been of consenting age. He had never slept with someone who was still in Hogwarts except for when he had also been Hogwarts. The Slytherin alumnus had never even made a move on a girl that was underage while he was twenty years overage. Though he may have had flings with women ten years younger than him, it didn’t bother her considering he was thirty-three and therefore the women were perfectly legal. They found older men such as Paris extremely attractive and so he wasn’t about to turn them away! But Hogwarts students? No. Even if one had made a move on him, he would have been hard pressed to do anything with her. Well, didn’t that sound a bit odd? It had never seemed possible for Paris to say no to attractive women before – until now. But age did matter to Paris in some ways, surprisingly enough. He just didn’t find… undeveloped women attractive any longer. They were good enough for his Hogwarts years but now he had moved onto much bigger and better things. Yeah, the bigger the better. However, Paris was currently breaking into the Hogwarts Express as it slowed down along its tracks on the way to the Ministry. The Death Eaters had been informed through various sources that the Hogwarts students were being invited to attend the celebration of the defeat of Voldemort and the election of a new Minister. The first part of the celebration made him chuckle a little. Voldemort may have wandered off into oblivion for the past twenty-one years, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t coming back, or, to put it more correctly, that he hadn’t already come back. Why else would the mark on Paris’ forearm be burning right now in reminder of who he served? Why else would the Death Eaters be uniting long enough to follow through with any form of attack? Yeah, celebrating the death of Voldemort was just foolish when he wasn’t even dead. “So, what is this, your first attack?” Paris called out behind him, talking to another figure clothed in black. Although the mask covered her face, he knew who it was easily enough. Emilija. For some reason or another, they had been paired together much to Paris pleasure and displeasure. Of course he was pleased to be paired with her because she was an extremely attractive women, but at the same time, she had also rejected him once before and it could not be said that Paris took rejection well. He typically hated and avoided the women that turned him down, attempting to forget that they existed. If Paris were ever asked if he had ever been turned down by a woman, he would say no right off the bat. Why, being rejected would hurt his reputation beyond belief and might even turn some women away. That was simply unacceptable. Nonetheless, Emilija had actually turned Paris down at one point when he was attempting to bed her. He was so close to finally getting with her when a woman wandered over claiming to have been one of his many one night stands. Of course he hadn’t been able to place her – meaning she probably hadn’t been anything special – and tried to get him and his hopefully future conquest away. He only succeeded in pulling himself away from the weirdo lady after twenty minutes and found Emilija had been long gone. Wench. His wand was pointed out in front of him as he continued down the hallway of the train. A few random students had popped up so far but they had either run away, been stunned if they didn’t put up a fight, or tortured a bit before they finally caved. A cruel smirk crossed the blonde’s face as he thought about some of the students who so foolishly attempted to take on a pair a trained Death Eaters. They hadn’t even graduated yet while he had been graduated for the past fifteen years. Obviously he was far more advanced in his spell casting and very few, if any, of the current students would be able to bother him. However, sometimes it was fun to give the students an impression that they could take him on while he slowly broke their defenses down. When they finally lost and the expression of shock and anger crossed their faces, Paris just … cackled. He soaked in their anger in a way that made him yearn for more. Though he usually came off as a man who only looked for s ex, Paris also was a man of the dark. An eye glancing into the compartments as he and some other Death Eaters stalked slowly down the train, Paris was soon aware that there was a compartment to his left that had two students in it. “Oh, more fun!” He cooed, almost seductively. He flashed a smirk back at his partner before stepping forward into the line of vision of whoever was there. He saw two boys, one that had a Slytherin badge and one that had a Gryffindor badge. The Slytherin was bloodied up and for a moment, Paris didn’t know if the Gryffindor or another Death Eater had done it. “Mmm, dear, shall we just get rid of the one who is already damaged? Head wounds are quite a pain, perhaps we should spare him.” [ come one and all, ^_^. ] |
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| Stanley Potter | Sep 2 2006, 05:10 PM Post #7 |
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Thy Fake Potter
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[I didn't know if I should reply or how to reply to the Death Eater, so don't kill me.] If Stanley had to choose two things he was honestly afraid of right off the bat, one would be his blood – at times the blood of others – and the second one would be Death Eaters, which he blamed his father for. Would he tell anyone? Oh god no, who would do such a foolish thing like that? Now one would think that begin afraid of your own blood was just pathetic on so many levels. Maybe it was. But when you have seen what Stanley seen at a young age you’ll think different. When he was younger he was always jealous of his old brother, Jacob, because he was the older one that got to stay up late and watch scary movies, to Stanley Jacob was living big. So he did what any other jealous little boy would do in his situation. He crawled out of bed to see the horrid movies. There was always blood; it was either squirting out of the person or oozing out. Both not very amazing sites. After many night of seeing how people are killed in the muggle world, Stanley became over-protective of his own blood, making his self believe that his blood was only for him and should always stay in his body. Not the greatest mix of fear of blood with his personality. As a little child he liked to play games where your bound to get hurt. Eh. He never learned and still doesn’t. And now that he was bleeding so much that it made a stream of his own blood all over the floor wasn’t a good thing. This second on was Death Eaters. Then again who isn’t afraid of Death Eaters? Everyone is, right? But he’s a Potter. Voldemort hates his father hence all Death Eaters wish to kill him, not the greatest information to get when you’re still a child, to know that your life is in danger. Yes, he would love to see his father hurt but if it meant for him to die. Well, count him out. “Oh shit.” Stanley glared at the boy. He neither said shit to him or because he was bleeding so much that he was practically following the light. He didn’t know which one but he glared at him nonetheless. Stanley was quiet a good glarer, which he learned from his sister. It wasn’t like he took lessons or anything like that but his sister glared as if she could burn right though the person. It came second nature to her, so he simply watched her eyes. He sighed trying to keep himself from fainting, which either way could happen any second without warning. Not so much of a pleasant thought, if you ask him. He began to wish that he was not at all found by the nameless boy, and would much rather he left to die when he was out cold. It would a whole lot better to die feeling pain. He wanted to yell at the kid and ask him why he woke him up and that if he was brainless, but he didn’t say a word. He knew he had to keep his anger in check. His eyes narrowed and hand turned into a fist nonetheless. He wasn’t going to scream but he still needed to let go of anger. Someway, somehow. His nails didn’t pierce his palm as they normally did when he turned his hand into a fist, hence the lack of blood which means lack of strength and other things that where soon to come if he didn’t get any help whatsoever. Lets just say Stanley’s luck had just run out. He began to see two boys again; this was in his opinion officially a bad sign. “You can say that again,” he said through his clenched teeth as he blamed very thing on him since he was the one that woke him up. Stanley surely wasn’t going to blame his pain on himself, that wouldn’t be reasonable. Stanley raise an eyebrow as the boy began to take off his blazer; he just couldn’t help but wonder why. “Yeah, it was a precaution. Anyways, you’re going to need to press that to your head, now. Trust me.” He just looked at the boy, not knowing how to react to his actions. He hesitated at first but took step back. He wanted to tell the boy to stop getting undressed and just stop what he was doing. Stanley was homophobic, not his greatest fear since he learned to live with it hence his very twin brother swung both ways if you get my drift. But still, that was his brother, and this guy was a stranger. “Dude –,” Stanley began but when the boy threw his shirt at him, Stanley stopped talking and caught if before it the ground. No need for a perfectly white shirt to be drenched in blood. He didn’t know what to do. Trust him? Or not? He did save his life, but then again Stanley was still dying, slowly and painfully. Tough choice. But with a quick reckless decision [like always] he put it on the back of his head. He had no clue what he was doing, every time he got hurt there was always his mother their and their house elf, who was good with healing cuts and whatnot. But this was a Hogwarts student, what does a Hogwarts student know about healing? He pushed the thought off his mind seeing as he wasn’t using magic and his bleeding wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Where the hell is a Mediwitch when you need one? He wanted to see how much blood the shirt soaked up but then thought he’ll puke at the sight of it. “Thanks, I own you one I guess. Do you need anything? My father’s bloody rich, I’ll get you anything.” He said, actually trying to sound sincere something that didn’t happen very often. He rubbed his eye with he’s free hand seeing if he could get one figure of the boy instead of two. “Just don’t tell anyone about this. Got it?” Stanley told him, in a firm voice trying to sound older then he really was, he probably failed but it was worth a try. He didn’t want to anyone to know about this. He wasn’t afraid of the Potter name begin disgraced, he just didn’t want to disgrace himself. “I’m Rafael. You’re going to need to sit down for a moment.” He nodded as the not so nameless boy told him his name. Stanley tried to match his grip but fail miserably, his hand hurt and he was going weak by the second. Sit down? Was he kidding? How dare him tell Stanley was to do. He fought back the urge to tell him to stop acting like his mother. He cleared his throat, and sat down on the seat not caring anymore. He took a box of a chocolate frog and began to open it, making sure he didn’t rip the box completely nor let the frog get away like his previous one, it was pretty hard to do so with one hand but he managed. Putting the frog in his mouth holding it in between his teeth, Stanley took another box and held it out, “Want one? I’ve got tons; one missing wouldn’t be much of a big deal.” Stanley looked up at the ceiling of the compartment as the lights began to flicker chewing a huge chunk of chocolate. He watched as Rafael the door; he couldn’t help but grin at the boy. “Scared much?” He watched wanting to laugh a little but he knew doing so would hurt his head. Like laughing had anything to do with thinking. Then there was a scream; it was high pitched so it must have belonged to a girl or a male in tune with his feminine side. Stanley scanned the compartment though it was pointless since they were the only two there. “No, I didn’t see anyone. Everything was fine before, everyone was just in their compartments.” Stanley looked at him hard to see if he was lying, he couldn’t tell so he stopped. “Not anymore, we have unwanted visitors.” He told him, watching as he pressed his face on the door. “Isn’t that sound proof?” he asked truly having no idea. “Stay here.” Jumping up to his feet so fast he was forced to sit back down before he had to chance to say anything. Resting for a second or two, he got back up slowly and then spoke dramatically. “What? No, I’m coming with. Its not like I’m going to listen to you anyway, I’m a Potter disobedience runs in my veins,” he spoke taking out his wand. He knew he shouldn’t move, he didn’t care though. All he wanted was to know if Alayna was alright, everyone else could be doomed for all he cared, but not his sister. No he wouldn’t let that happen. “Mmm, dear, shall we just get rid of the one who is already damaged? Head wounds are quite a pain, perhaps we should spare him.” Everything seemed to be going fine. He had a plan and the first thing was go get going and fine his sister after that he’ll just wing it. So much for a plan, right? Anyway, he was about to push Rafael out of the way to get out of the compartment, but a dark figure appeared before him. He had dark robes and a mask on, he knew what that mask meant he was. A Death Eater. He stood there froze to death as the Death Eater spoke, and what he said made Stanley’s blood boil, or at least what’s left of his blood. The Death Eater was talking about him and how they should spare him. Hell, no one spares Stanley Potter out of pity; he’d rather die trying then live out of a pity. Some might like it, but not him. The grip on his wand became tighter; he had to play it smart. Lifting up his wand quickly he pointed it that Rafael’s head, he looked at him giving him a look that said ‘just play along’ and then quickly glanced at his Slytherin badge. He then looked at the Death Eater and gulp trying to hide the fear running though his body. He wasn’t alone, that was pretty clear, no Death Eater traveled alone especially if killing all the students on the train was there mission. No, they would need a lot of people, for all Stanley knew there were Death Eater scum crawling all over the place. “Get out! This one is mine,” Stanley began trying hard not to let his voice tremble as he spoke and refered to Rafael. “Go kill someone else, I want to kill this one.” He finished still referring to Rafael. Hopefully the Death Eater wasn’t so smart and he’ll just walk away, or he’ll get annoyed with him and kill him right then and there. Stanley hoped very much for it to be the first one. |
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| Rafael Cardosa | Sep 3 2006, 02:47 PM Post #8 |
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Is beauty to behold
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“You can say that again,” Quickly getting over the blood that seemed to pervade throughout the entire compartment, the young mind of Rafael Cardosa launched into one of its infamously long tangents. Throughout the entirety of his sixteen years walking the Earth, the boy had constantly been considered one of the best strategists by people who knew him well enough. Like the true raven that he was, the boy’s smarts exuded not only in set classroom atmospheres, in fact the boy was raised with more street smarts than was possibly good for him. Adjusting his brown eyes once again to the glass compartment door, he pressed his ear up against it again as he tapped the glass lightly. Sighing, he removed himself from the door, shaking his head as his brain registered exactly what that meant. Squinting his chocolate orbs, the boy strained his eyes to peer outside the compartment, but all he could see was a mass of dark shapes through the distorted and somewhat foggy thick glass. Observing the glass for another moment, Rafael finally detached himself from it as he walked over to the boy who was looking at him apprehensible, flashing him a somewhat reassuring smile. Steeping closer to the younger student, Rafael but his lip slightly as his brown eyes scrutinized the boy again, estimating the area of the cut. He needed to calculate the amount of pressure that the boy needed to apply in order to stop losing more blood. Something that was now seeming rather difficult. “Come on....,” he mumbled to himself, again roughly estimating the boy’s height and weight, trying to find the blood loss in relation to acceleration due to gravity. A couple of estranged seconds ticked by as Rafael looked onto Bobby, before a soft smile worked its way onto his face. Stepping closer, Rafael took the shirt that was in the boy’s hands, folding it to the right size before pressing it against the boy’s head. “Hold it just like that, with that much pressure. Got it?” Rafael instructed, before stepping away, once again preoccupying himself with the door. “Dude –,” Instead of acknowledging Bobby with an actual answer, Rafael simply returned his glare. He couldn’t be serious right now. Shaking his head, Rafael released another pent up sigh, choosing to ignore the younger student than actually respond to his nervousness. He needed to think, find a way of getting out and getting his sister safe. However, with the lack of information that was at his fingertips, that was seeming impossible unless he allowed himself to make a reckless decision, something that he was on the borderline of doing. Hearing another muffled scream through the distortions of the glass compartment, Rafael pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, trying to clear his mind long enough to make a rational decision. “Thanks, I own you one I guess. Do you need anything? My father’s bloody rich, I’ll get you anything. Just don’t tell anyone about this. Got it?” The boy’s cation broke through Rafael’s concentration, as he looked up and surveyed the boy. After a moment, Rafael shrugged again, instead once again peering out of the glass door, trying to figure out if the shapes moving outside were students or something else. So Bobby, as the other boy called himself, was one of those. Rafael resisted the urge to chuckle, realizing that he probably should have guessed judging by the green and black badge that he displayed so proudly on his robes. “Don’t worry about it,” he responded, more concerned about the safety of his sister than he was with the prospect of getting money. “Your secrets safe with me,” he reassured, wondering why the boy was so disinclined to take help. Honestly, if he was bleeding that badly and locked in a compartment where he could hear student’s screams outside, Rafael would be more inclined to forget about prose and reputation and accept any help that would get him out of there alive. However, he supposed that it wasn’t only the different colored badges the boy’s wore that marked them so far apart from one and another. “Want one? I’ve got tons; one missing wouldn’t be much of a big deal.” How the boy could eat when Rafael’s stomach was twisting into knots was beyond him. “No thank you,” Rafael decline politely, keeping his ear pressed against the door. God, Hogwarts did a good job with building the compartments, completely multi-purpose. It was near impossible to actually distinguish who or what was going on outside the glass because of the darkness that had taken over the compartment a couple of moments before, and if Rafael even thought about whispering ‘lumos’ to his wand then not only would the reflection of the light against the glass make it impossible for him to decipher any kind of shapes outside, but it would make them sitting ducks if indeed someone of danger was outside. “Scared, much?” Rafael turned around, just making out the boy’s smirk in the sea of semi-darkness. “Yes. Very.” He answered, as he softly thumped his head against the wall of the compartment. “If anyone touches my sister, I swear to God-“ he warned, more to alleviate the tension that was building in himself rather than to actually articulate anything to the boy. “Not anymore, we have unwanted visitors. Isn’t that sound proof?” Unwanted visitors. That sounded like.... no it couldn’t be. Not now. Sighing, Rafael once again pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, feeling a slight anger built up inside of him. In the naive eyes of an eleven year old who had just taken part in murder, London had been the perfect escape. However, he had been transplanted in a time of war. He had just escaped one war to go to another. One that didn’t even concern him and he could care less about. And now, he was in the middle of it. “Not exactly.” He explained, tapping the glass lightly again. “Judging by the sound it seems like there is at least three layers of thick glass. While its enough to distort sound and vision normally, something’s can escape. Which makes me wonder just how far away and how loud those people have to be screaming for us to hear it,” he contemplated, feeling his chest constrict slightly. No matter how he looked at it, this was not good. “What? No, I’m coming with. Its not like I’m going to listen to you anyway, I’m a Potter disobedience runs in my veins,” Why did the boy need to be so reckless. Rolling his brown eyes, Rafael decided that he wasn’t going to wait any longer to hear the screams, sliding the compartment door slightly open as he began to fit himself out, taking as little space as he could. It was then that he had full, undistorted vision to the hall, his heart dropping as he realized what was right in front of him. Two hooded people, standing right outside their compartment, wands drawn. He himself was halfway in and out of the compartment, one foot in the hallway and the other in the compartment. Not to mention that he was with a severely injured Potter boy, and he was a muggle born. Oh, this was just fantastic. Realizing that this was probably as close to the end of his life that he would actually see, Rafael kept his eyes on the hooded figures, his hand slowly making it’s way to his pocket as he entwined it around his wand. “Mmm, dear, shall we just get rid of the one who is already damaged? Head wounds are quite a pain, perhaps we should spare him.” Rafael chanced a glance up the length of the hallway, though all he saw were other ominous hooded figures, some hovering outside the doors of compartments, the screams of students piercing the air. Feeling his breathing quicken, Rafael’s heart dropped into his stomach several feet. This could not actually be happening. They were supposed to be protected. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Real admirable you know, trying to hurt children.” The distaste was apparent in his voice, which for some reason was coming out a lot stronger than he had intended. Rafael could feel the fear that had been distilled a moment before return in full force, as his certainty of making it to London and back alive slowly evaporated into the air. Feeling something brush his hair, Rafael resisted the urge to turn around and see what it was, feeling the point of something against his head. “Get out! This one is mine. Go kill someone else, I want to kill this one.” Rafael could feel the air once again return to his chest as Bobby’s voice resonated in the compartment behind him. Thank God. However, he wasn’t quite so sure if the Deatheaters would be dumb enough to believe the fourteen year old or not. Deciding it was best not to say anything, Rafael’s eyes lingered on the pair of death eaters, waiting for them to do something. |
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| Belle Archibald | Sep 4 2006, 12:09 PM Post #9 |
● life[after]_d e a t h
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It seemed kind of cocky, didn’t it? To have some big high-tone and fancy to-do since some guy had been dead for twenty-something years right? And that meant that in her lifetime, the guy hadn’t been around. Sure, there had been things here and there that talked about who the guy had been and what he had done, but really… what was the big deal? If he was dead, he was like… dead. It was completely stupid to be cocky enough to throw a party in celebration for something. It was almost as if they were just throwing it in the faces of those who believed differently. And yes, in all truths, there were many who still believed differently. If that was how you were supposed to put it. In fact, that was why there were Whitewands right? To rid the earth of all the death eaters? Yeah, no big secret. After all, being one who had friends in certain places, Belle was one who actually would have been a death eater, back in the day. However, there had been no real way to become a death eater, and so she wasn’t. Just a normal kid. Invited to a party. Yeah, it was cool. So not, but it might have turned out to be decent. Or there would be someone she could hook up with. Was it bad she was going to some place to celebrate the death of someone and end up having s ex? Probably. But what did she care? She didn’t, so it didn’t matter. It had just been another day, really, it had. All the students or at least most of them had gotten on the Hogwarts express, getting ready to go to the party that was being held at the ministry. Most of the gang that hung out with Belle had decided to tag along, which brought them to the Hogwarts Express, sitting in the back, lounging over all the other seats, when suddenly all hell started to break loose. At first the group had just ignored it, until they started to hear the screams and all those things you would never ever expect to happen on the Hogwarts Express. In the whole time Belle had ever attended Hogwarts, nothing bad had ever happened, so something was definitely wrong. It was then that someone fell against the door to their compartment that the Slytherin girls jumped. Every single person in the compartment stood up and started to leave the back of the train, hoping to find somewhere safe, and Belle followed. However, Belle had come to an abrupt stop when she passed a compartment in which she saw a Slytherin holding a wand against the back of a Ravenclaws head. Stopping for a second, peering into the window of the compartment, Belle had been so transfixed on the fact that Potter was holding a wand against the back of Rafael’s head. It didn’t make any sense, since when had Potter ever hated Ravenclaws? Well, not that Belle would really know, since the kid was like… a third year or something, but still… Slytherins didn’t really hate Ravenclaws. It didn’t make any sense. However, it might have made more sense if Belle had even noticed the dark cloaks and masked faces before hearing the words escape the Slytherin’s mouth. “Get out! This one is mine. Go kill someone else, I want to kill this one.” Now, if Belle had been a Gryffindor she probably would have charged in there and hexed the Slytherin, but she wasn’t. She was a Slytherin. However, she was not really insanely cunning was she? Hell, she didn’t even know exactly what made someone cunning. So instead, being the person she actually was, Belle felt her voice raise and felt the confusion on her face grow even more as she spoke her words, “What’s going on!?” Then, as Belle turned and looked for someone who might have known what was going on, Belle caught sight of the people in the robes, with the masks, and all the things that spelt trouble. “Oh…” Belle whispered, unsure if even someone who stood close to her would have heard her words. Feeling her stomach drop about seven floors, Belle was pretty sure if she wasn’t in such shock she probably would have fainted. [[Okay, so I officially suck. Don’t kill me, I promise they will be better.]] |
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| Paris Barron | Sep 6 2006, 09:00 PM Post #10 |
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close › shades & turn » lock
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He allowed himself some restraint as he looked at the two boys in the compartment. The reason they were attacking this train was for the sole purpose of demolishing the uprising forces of the Whitewands and future Order members. Paris, through his position as a double agent in the Whitewands, had found out that the new group seemed to appeal most to the younger generation. Most of them hadn’t even been alive during Voldemort’s second reign so they hadn’t known what the Order had done to help save the Wizarding World. Because the Order didn’t play a prominent role now, they tended to assume that the group did nothing at all. That wasn’t exactly true – other spies had informed the Death Eaters of possible confrontations – but it worked well enough if the new generation, the future leaders of the Wizarding World, thought so and didn’t flock to sign up. The Whitewand Wizard, whoever he was, definitely reined a tight leash on his group, but it was still a new group bursting with youthful pride that nowhere matched the wizened battle strengthened history of the Order of the Phoenix. If Paris was forced to choose between facing Harry Potter and a new recruit to the Whitewands, he would choose the new recruit any day. Someone who killed Voldemort, twice, even if he technically wasn’t dead forever, wasn’t someone to be messed with. However, Paris could deal with a Hogwarts student or recent graduate. A bit of a “pick on someone your own size” issue, but Paris was never one to care for what was fair and not fair. He glanced back at Emilija and shot her a rueful grin as he stepped forward to take in the unfolding scene. Obviously the boy who was covered in blood wasn’t so damaged as to not make the bold move he was making now. Paris looked him over quickly, taking in the Slytherin badge, but discounting it the moment her saw the boy’s face. It was youthful and soft and it was obvious that he could be no older then fourteen, perhaps fifteen. No Death Eater was that young and as far as Paris knew, none of the current Death Eaters had any relatives at that age. Of course, he didn’t know all the Death Eaters or their families, but Paris decided to listen to his gut when it screamed that all of this was just an act. “Put your wand down, boy,” He said to him, addressing him as he should be: a boy. However, he didn’t dismiss him completely after that. There was still something that nagged at him as familiar when he looked at that face, that hair. It was black and messy, probably impossible to tame. Somewhere, at some point, he had heard the same phrase applied to someone else but for the love of Voldemort, he couldn’t think of whom. He delivered the shorter boy a sideways look as he moved onto the person who was on the other end of his wand. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Real admirable you know, trying to hurt children.” Paris had to admit, it was a bold move but not one fitting of his house badge. Ravenclaw; that meant he was supposedly smart and perhaps even a bit cunning if he was lucky. The statement, however, made Paris think of Gryffindor, the house he was so far away from being sorted into. He may have been a Gryffindor by blood, but Paris was always a Slytherin in the heart. The day the hat sorted him into the house no one else in his family had been sorted into he praised whatever higher being there was for their intelligence and insight. Again, he dragged his eyes quickly over this other student, assessing him as best as he could. He was obviously older than the boy who was pointing his wand at him and in Paris’ opinion, someone who could have easily overpowered the Slytherin. This thought made Paris assume even further that it was nothing but an act. However, there was time to spare and he thought he might have some fun with it. He never lost his mocking smile, but he allowed his tone to become more serious. Although he was till staring at the older Ravenclaw, his next statement was addressed to the other kid: “Put it down. As much as you may wish to… prove yourself, it would not be wise to take on someone so much older. Not yet at least.” He attempted to make his words imply that he believed the charade and was only attempting to save the “wanna-be” Death Eater from hurting himself. What he really intended to do was disarm the boy once his wand was dropped. Paris hadn’t seen a wand drawn from the older boy and thought that once the Slytherin was out of the way he would simply be able to knock out the older kid as well. He would just have to see how things turned out. “What’s going on!?” The intrusion startled Paris only momentarily as he barely moved his head to see where the sound was coming from. One second later he had his eyes back on the boys in front of him, the new girl not much of a worry to him. She appeared to be a Slytherin, but her posture did not look dangerous and nor did her expression look like one that implied an attack. However, he hoped that Emilija was keeping an eye on her so that he would not be caught unawares. “Oh, indeed, little girl,” He said, his ever saucy smirk still present. “Come on in, sit for a spell.” With his wand, he motioned from her direction towards one of the seats in the compartment, wondering if she had the intelligence to just do what he said. Part of him wanted to see how well he could control her, but another part, a much stronger part, hoped she didn’t listen to him so that he would have a reason to curse her. Well, he didn’t really need a reason, but if she didn’t do something he told her to and he punished her for it then it somewhat heightened the sense of fear in the air. That fear clogged air was the air Paris lived off of, the air that made him high with danger. It was what had caused so much desire in him to become a Death Eater. Again, Paris felt that he should know something about the Slytherin, recognize him even though he had never met him before. He hoped that it would come to him soon so that he didn’t not make a decision he wished he could change after remembered whatever little fact was escaping him. “Anyone else coming to disrupt our little party?” |
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| Stanley Potter | Sep 9 2006, 03:24 PM Post #11 |
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Thy Fake Potter
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“Hold it just like that, with that much pressure. Got it?” Stanley narrowed his eyes knowing he had to obey, even if he didn’t want to. Even if it killed him inside out, he had to listen. And the most sickening part of it was the fact that he didn’t know this old boy, the only thing he knew was his name, and that was only his first name. What is he? A dizzy blonde cheerleader that says: Hi I’m Brittany. God, what don’t they have a last name or is that it? Damn other blondes, those useless dizzy blondes. His blood boil just thinking about it, but he cooled himself down as he lit the thought mentally on fire – burning it into ashes that were all in his head. It was his way of removing thoughts; he didn’t like pushing them away because it doesn’t completely discard what he was thinking. It’s still there, just not there. Did that make sense? Probably not, but it makes sense to Stanley and that what matters to him the most. But there where times in one’s life in which they must follow the rules and obey, that they must do as there told even if there life was at risk, Stanley personally didn’t like to listen and took joy in getting himself in trouble with his Professors and whatnot. He enjoyed the riskiness part of life, not just the simple part where you sit down and drink some tea with your dying mother – not that his mother was ill. If she were, he wouldn’t be here; he would have been at home with his mother and not on this train going to some worthless party. Yay new Minister, yay no more Dark Lord, so? Stanley just didn’t get what was so great about it. He wasn’t paying much attention so when Rafael spoke he had no idea what he was talking about. He nodded twice as if he understood when he was actually completely lost. He grabbed the folded shirt as Rafael stepped away letting go and going back to the door. “Right, will do. Just be glad the blood isn’t going out like water from a faucet.” Stanley told, him, now remembering what was happening to him. Could the lack of blood mess with his memory? Probably. The image of blood pouring out like water from a faucet made the chocolate frog he had eaten earlier begin to come back up. He swallowed hard trying to keep it down. “Don’t worry about it. Your secrets safe with me.” What was he trying to get? There where stuck in a small compartment and hearing screams from both guys and girl and they couldn’t do anything about it. One, they weren’t screams of joy and just playful fun. No they were screams of pain and fright. Whatever was happening out there Stanley knew he had no chance and doubted his life savor of there, still extraordinarily fascinated with the door, had chance. He guessed this was one of those times the Potter blood wasn’t going to help him. He kicked the floor softly, trying to figure out how much pressure to put. He had lost it only a few seconds ago, from thinking and now he resorted to putting random pressure to his wound. Stanley stared at the boy for a while as he had just been regretted, not that he care. Okay maybe he cared a little, but still the fact that he just got turned down from an offer most people jump into, didn’t suit him to well. He had one conclusion and one only that he was rich. But feeling the texture of his shirt, contradict that unless it was just his lack of blood messing with his senses, then it was completely reasonable that he felt that the shirt had been made from poor martial. He shot the boy a look of confusion. That was too easy. He had agreed not to tell anyone that he had helped a Slytherin. Anyone from any other house won’t do that; in fact they’ll be jumping for joy that they got dirt from a Slytherin. That didn’t happen so often, but this one, he just didn’t care. Stanley sighed and then shrugged, “Thanks I guess,” he paused to see if he was listening, most likely not the door had him in some type of trance, “I appreciated.” He faked coughed trying to discard what he said last, finding it incredibly weak of him. “No thank you.” He’s cheek turned red from suppressing so much anger, once again being said no to. Stanley wasn’t much of a spoiled brat but he never liked the word no. He found it to something that wraps around your freedom of speech and crushes it. Plus, he believed it gave people some strange control over you, when they said no to you it was as if they were commanding you to not do something. “Yes. Very.” He looked at him for a while, wondering how someone could be so open like that. Clearing his throat he replied, “Well you should learn to hide it better. If people know you’re afraid you’re just going to be a push over.” With that, he dropped back down into a seat and began to eat another chocolate frog. Stanley raised an eyebrow as Rafael began to talk to himself, but what he said made complete sense and it was completely normal to feel, Stanley felt it. He too wanted to get his older sister, who acted like a toddler mother to him, to safely. Stanley just hid it. No need to show all your soft spots, right? He said nothing about it to the boy, but just went on eating every single chocolate frog as if where his last meal. He nodded, half listening and half completely blocking out as he spoke again. So he was right… sort of. You can barely see or hear anything so why was he trying to hard? It wasn’t like he was going to get something out of it, or did he not just listen to himself speak? Stanley sighed beginning to worry more and more about Alayna, just being with Rafael, made him worry that something might happen to her. He tapped his foot rapidly on the floor of the compartment avoiding his blood as much as possible. “Put your wand down, boy.” He blinked, almost smiling at him. He wasn’t going to let his guard down and let the Death Eater know he wasn’t a Death Eater. The fact that he was retarded was thrown out the window because it was getting obvious the man didn’t think Stanley was one of them. “You think I’m going to listen to some low class scum like you? Get real.” Stanley told with him with a bit of a pissed off attitude. He knew what he was doing… sort of. He was digging himself probably along with Rafael into a hole. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Real admirable you know, trying to hurt children.” What was he doing? Stanley was trying to save there arse, and he was digging them more into a hole that they will later not get back out of simply because they will be dead. He slightly gave me a ‘what the hell are you thinking’ look. Like Death Eaters cared what young children tell them, nor would they care that they hurt someone. Hell, there Death Eaters, they had the mask and everything. They kill for a living, like killing children would have an affect on them. Psh. Wasn’t he like in Ravenclaw? Shouldn’t he know not to tick off a Death Eater because he’ll just push him over the edge and death to them both was most certain. Maybe for him it was okay because he was Slytherin. Unless the Death Eater didn’t care about that either then what he said was a big mistake. Stanley quickly looked over at the Death Eater, he was pretty sure that it was a man behind the mask but the voice was still muffled so he wasn’t really sure, damn mask. “Put it down. As much as you may wish to… prove yourself, it would not be wise to take on someone so much older. Not yet at least.” Stanley smirked, still picking on him – rude. Prove himself, how silly. Maybe the Death Eater wasn’t as smart as Stanley first thought he was. Did they actually think he was on there side? Psh, dream on. The day they have a Potter on the dark side is the day a Potter is sorted into the Slytherin house… oh wait that already happened. But still Stanley had no intention of becoming a Dark Lord follower. “Please, I don’t have to prove any thing. Its not my fault the Dark Lord doesn’t believe in your abilities as a follower unlike he believes in mine. Why do you think I’m so young and a Death Eater.” He wanted to make the man mad, as much as possible. People that acted out of anger always made silly little mistakes that get them into bigger problems later on. Stanley knew every well seeing as when he was younger he would always try to hurt Jacob with anger… and he always ended up losing. Figuring that it was because Jacob was much older it wasn’t until Stanley punched his brother in the gut that he realize to fight better there’s no need for anger. Plus the person that always made the first move always had it bad. “Your pathetic, you’re probably three times my age and you still seem worthless to the Dark Lord.” Stanley stopped talked after that knowing very well that he was insulted a Death Eater, but he hoped that Rafael over there was thinking of a plan and not just standing there dumbstruck. Stanley shifted his eyes to see where the voice was coming from; it was a girl a Slytherin girl. He couldn’t help but think that they were saved by a non-injured Slytherin pureblood. But that thought got crushed when the girl spoke. Stanley couldn’t help but feel hope at the moment, they where boomed. He listened as the man spoke to the girl and then back to them. “I don’t know. Do you have anymore of your little friends that are supposed to help you out there? Then again it isn’t my fault that you can’t do this by your self.” |
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| Rafael Cardosa | Sep 9 2006, 04:40 PM Post #12 |
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Is beauty to behold
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“Right, will do. Just be glad the blood isn’t going out like water from a faucet.” The sixteen year old turned around again, raising an eyebrow at the boy who was sitting down. Maybe the blood loss was starting to get to him. Sighing, Rafael pressed his hand over his forehead, trying to clear his mind from worry over Yelena long enough to try and figure out what to do. Glancing back at the boy, he realized that he looked rather lost. “Press it that hard, otherwise your blood will flow like a faucet,” he encouraged, wondering why he felt the need to look after the boy when he really didn’t know him. Really, he should have just left and took care of his own business, but then again Rafael wasn’t too inclined to allow someone else’s blood to stain his pale hands. He had already done that once, to a much more severe degree. Sighing, he pushed the thought out of the confines of his mind, as the realization occurred to him. At the school everyone had been entirely perplexed as to why the entire Hogwarts school was taking a field trip over to the Ministry of Magic. It had seemed so strange, but most had simply shrugged it off. It had all been a set up. Sighing again, Rafael let his head rest on the glass wall of the compartment, the cold of the glass comforting the throbbing that was taking place in his head. Hadn’t anyone realized that this was going to happen? Somehow, Rafael didn’t think that the headmaster was stupid enough to pack all of the students on a train and ship them off without leaving them anything to defend themselves. Then again, as the rather horrific situation was unfolding in front of his brown eyes, Rafael realized that his fear indeed was probably what was happening. He needed to get to Yelena. Now. Sighing, the boy removed himself from his perch on the door, stepping backwards as he looked blankly at the door. She would be scared out of her mind. Even though he was the younger twin he had always found a way to protect her, and now he was in the same train as her and he couldn’t get to her. The thought was unbearable, causing a slight wave of nausea to pass over him. “Thanks, I guess. I appreciated.” A spasm flickered across the boy’s handsome face as Bobby’s voice broke the silence and concentration that Rafael had been absorbed in, as he glanced over towards the fourteen year old. He could tell that what he said wasn’t sitting too good with the younger boy, which he really couldn’t figure out for the life of him seeing as he had agreed to the rather panicked request that the snake had made a couple of moments ago. “No problem,” he responded, eyeing the boy with a slight distrust in his eyes before he returned his attention back towards the figures that were hovering outside the door. Something about the younger boy wasn’t resonating too well with Rafael, though that was probably just because he wasn’t one to usually converse with people. It wasn’t as though he was shy, he just didn’t see a need too. He wasn’t one of those overly friendly people, actually he wasn’t friendly at all. However, he did have manners. And he wasn’t too keen on using a fourteen year old for any personal gain, especially when it was something as unimportant as money. The boy had already been in enough bad dealings with that in Brazil to know not to accept it so willingly for nothing at all. Turning away from the door, Rafael glanced at the wall of the compartment. He could take a chance and use the Reducto curse to blast it open, so that the pair could begin to travel freely throughout the train without risking using the hallway. But there was always the chance that the blast would attract attention to them, and possibly hurt someone on the other side. Or cause the entire train to cave in. Yeah, not so good. Sighing, the boy ran his hand through his brown hair, realizing that the only way out of the compartment and to his sister would be using the compartment. Though everything was telling him that was a stupid decision. “Well you should learn to hide it better. If people know you’re afraid you’re just going to be a push over.” That was the difference between the fourteen year old and Rafael. Smirking softly, he couldn’t resist letting a chuckle pass through his lips. The boy was so keen on appearances and playing a part that it was almost ridiculous. They were stuck in a compartment where they could hear screams through a supposed sound proof door, and he was still trying to stick to the societal norms that were placed on teenage boys and act tough. How... strangely pathetic. “Well I guess that’s in your character. If you let your fear allow you to be a push over, or if you fight back,” he said conversationally, not to keen on starting a fight with the bleeding snake. Why were they wasting time talking about fear? It seemed like such a stupid topic especially considering that it was obvious that the two of them were scared, Rafael more so because he was worried about someone else. He could care less if it was him who came face to face with whomever was taking over the train, but if any one of them got hands on his sister he would simply die. Softly tugging on his hair, he realized that it would have probably been smarter for him to sit next to her on the train rather then allow himself to part ways with her in the confusion of the crowd. Trying hard to push the thought to the back of his mind, Rafael decided that it would probably be better to try and stay alive in the situation that was unfolding so rapidly. Seeing as he now had a couple of wands pointed at him, Rafael’s hand tightened around the slender piece of wood that was inside of his pocket, his mind struggling to stay clear so he could plan for the way out of the mess that was in front of him. “Put your wand down, boy. “Put it down. As much as you may wish to… prove yourself, it would not be wise to take on someone so much older. Not yet at least.” Resisting the urge to try and hex the Death Eater so he could run down the hall, Rafael chanced another glance down the length of the semi-dark pathway. He could see a horde of darkened figures almost patrolling the corridor, occasionally opening a compartment door, before a series of screams issued out. Rafael could feel his stomach boil over, realizing just how sick this entire thing was. However, a new thought dawned on him. Even if he did withdraw his wand at the moment and hex the death Eater [which admittedly, was a stupid idea] then he would have to get past all the other Death Eaters in the hallway, something that he knew would be impossible. Sighing, Rafael realized that the only way he was working his way down the hall alive would be if he had one of those masks on. One of the masks that was right in front of him, on the face of the Death Eater who was currently conversing with the Potter child. Biting the inside of his lip, Rafael figured that the best way out of this would be to play along and wait for the opurtune moment to knock the Death Eater out, before himself and Bobby could dawn the gear that was currently draped over the two adults in front of him. Figuring that it would be best to do in the compartment where no one else would really be able to see them, he allowed himself to back into the compartment slightly, hoping that the Death Eaters would follow suit and lock themselves in with the two students. Rafael sighed again, lowering his brown eyes to the floor as he realized that his plan had a one in a million chance at actually working. However, that was all he had at the moment, and he was willing to go with it. Mouthing off hadn’t been such a great idea, but the Death Eater didn’t comment on it, so Rafael assumed that he was at least safe for now. Maybe in the masked man’s bad list, but at least he wasn’t writhing in the floor and in pain. Maybe this one was new. Or at least new enough not to hurt a student. As if. Rafael let his eyes sweep the man’s cloaked body, as he silently whispered a prayer that he remembered from the last time that he had stepped inside a church. That had to years ago, probably when he had been at his brothers funeral. Clenching his fist harder around his wand, Rafael ceased to pay attention to the Potter boy mouthing off, hoping that he was able to anger the Death Eaters enough so that they would step into the compartment and try and attack Bobby, in which he would be able to withdraw his wand and attempt a hex. As the new plan was forming in his mind, Rafael heard a new noise, causing his brown eyes to look up and see the new figure that appeared in the doorway. Belle. Rafael kept his face impassive, though inside his heart rate quickened slightly. At least now it was three against two, though he supposed Bobby didn’t count seeing as he was bleeding rather profusely from the head. Then again, he knew that Belle was a pureblood and a snake, and so a part of him doubted that she would be willing to help him out. Releasing a pent up sigh, the boy closed his eyes as he allowed his body to rest against the wall he was standing near, deciding that he was going to have to play this as it unfolded. |
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| Emilija Vrkljan | Sep 13 2006, 02:46 AM Post #13 |
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[[L.O.C.K.E.D.]] u p
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Emilija had been a death eater for what? All of three years, and it wasn't Voldemort that accepted her, she had been recruited by secondary Death Eaters who were awaiting his return. Hell, she didn't even have the mark branded into her arm yet. All she knew was she supported the Death Eaters and welcomed what she could do with this new found power to do what ever she pleased. But walking to the train she didn't quite know what to do. Her support for the Death Eaters didn't quite go as far as to murder children. She knew of Voldemort's return or perhaps soon to be return and knew this was for him as much as it was to kill of future supporters of the Order as well as the newly established Whitewands. Emilija wasn't about to kill anyone unless provoked and at the moment it looked like the only person she was about to kill was the person she was paired with; Paris Barron. The ugly bastard. Well, okay, maybe that was a lie, Paris was by no means ugly. In fact he was one of the most attractive males Emilija had come to know, but that made no difference to her. His personality more than made up for it, and Emilija would at any point wish to be as far away from the man as possible. It was too bad they had to stay together for the night, and not in a way of pleasure, no, much to her displeasure to was paired with the arse to kill little kids who wouldn't be able to defend themselves. Now she would do everything in her power to make sure they, wait scratch that, he, didn't hurt too many of the students. There were many things Emilija would do when it came to the Death Eaters but she drew the line at helpless kids with no life training whatsoever. "So, what is this, your first attack?" "Go screw yourself! We all know how good you are at that." Her voice was low and dangerous, if not a little bit breathy, and Paris was treading on dangerous ground. She wasn't about to play this game with him, she was in no mood, not at all. The wizard, who thought he knew everything, knew very well she had been on at least a few attacks. If she was so new, he would know she wouldn't be anywhere near this train, and she almost wished that was the case. She wouldn't feel so guilty otherwise, especially when she shouldn't. Not when she knew this wouldn't be the first time and that she should be getting used to it. Paris wasn't helping things either. It was hard to believe she actually liked him at one point, and she found herself incredibly lucky she found out what he was like before she did something she regretted. Actually she would like to know that woman personally now.. Maybe she could ask Paris where she could meet her... The train neared quickly and up till that point Emilija tried her best to ignore the man she was partnered with. So far it hadn't worked so well, it seemed the longer she was with him, the angrier she got. Did it suddenly get a lot hotter? No that was just her, mostly from her frustration and anger with Paris. Right, not mostly, all. That was better. Emilija moved stealthily, even with the long, and personally she thought, heavy robes. But then again, she was good on her feet not to mention off, but that was a different story all together. Students moved out of their way as the two made their way down the train. Other than a few stunners here and there the trip was, so far, uneventful. No one, from what she could tell, was really getting hurt. Then again, they weren't putting up much of a fight. It was no big deal, maybe she shouldn't have been such a wuss. Luckily she hadn't told anyone of her fears, but then again, if she had, she probably would have been dead by now. Not a good thought. Oh another student, she smiled sweetly then sent him flying into the wall. Now that made her feel better. Well he wasn't hurt so she wasn't a hypocrite and a stunning curse kept him safe from everyone else. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. It wasn't long before, they got to the back of the train, after passing a few other Death Eaters along the way, none of which she would know or who would know her. Sometimes she was thankful of the masks. "Oh more fun! Mmm, dear, shall we just get rid of the one who is already damaged? Head wounds are quite a pain, perhaps we should spare him." "Perhaps, though I rather think it is you who is the one in immediate danger." Of course no one could here her but, perhaps, Paris himself but she didn't mind. Taking a closer look at the two boys inside the compartment, other than the fact that the smaller Slytherin student, nothing was wrong with the two. His wound didn't look too bad, but there was something familiar and she squinted her eyes trying to remember where she knew the boy from. Emilija knew that she had never met him and yet something was on the tip of her brain on why he looked so familiar until she remembered. He was a Potter, one of the twins of Harry Potter himself, at least she was pretty sure. Remembering an article on all the children a few years back she could be wrong but if she was she would be dearly surprised. This, however, didn't change anything. If Paris got wind of the piece of information he would probably end up dead. Or worse... could she let that happen? Well it was tempting it would put her in more favor that was for sure. Then again, she could be mistaken, could be wrong. It wouldn't do her any good to be wrong now would it? Whatever lets her sleep at night right? Her eyes darted on a bit of an angle towards Paris, as if he could hear what she was thinking. Cursing herself for her insecurity her hand wrapped around the wand she had tucked away in her robes. Knowing she wouldn't need it, not with her being with Paris. No matter how much she hated him he was a great dueller, even she had to admit it. Even with her being an unspeakable, she hadn't been one for long, he was better than her and would be better than any of the students on the train. Not a lot of fairness if you thought about it. “Get out! This one is mine. Go kill someone else, I want to kill this one.” Though she knew the boy was being stupid for believing the two Death Eaters would believe this, she had to admit the boy had spunk. Though if he wasn't careful that same spunk would end up having him killed. Well at least she wouldn't be at fault and she could rest easily, she, after all, never gave anything away that would lead to it. It would be all because of a boy's stupidity. It took all of her energy not to call him an idiot right then and there, so much for being able to let out all your anger with a mask on. This wasn't helping her even a little and her anger was beginning to shine through. Well at least he wasn't announcing at the top of his lungs that he was Harry Potter's son, not that, that wouldn't be amusing and interesting to see, but she could say that the boy wasn't completely dense. No boy of, what was it fourteen? Anyway, there was no way he was a Death Eater, she didn't believe it, she was almost positive Paris didn't believe it and, although many Death Eaters may buy it, many would laugh in his face. She almost felt like doing it himself. "Put your wand down, boy." Well Paris wasn't angry, which definitely counted, but Emilija wondered if the others in the room knew it as well. Actually she thought he was rather humored by the situation. She would be too except for the extenuating circumstances. To bad too. A little humor never hurt anyone. Well if she were the boy she would listen to Paris, but that was just her reasoning. Paris may be an idiot in some situations but there was only so much to hope for. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. Real admirable you know, trying to hurt children.” Oh so they both wanted to be stupid, and here Emilija thought there would only be trouble with the Potter boy. Well so much for that. Well if Paris didn't act soon she would act for them both. There was only so much they could take from little brats who knew nothing. No, she wouldn't hurt them but taking their wands away would be a start. Then they wouldn't be able to surprise them. She wondered what exactly Paris wanted to do about them, why the hell he was stalling with whatever he was planning. It was stupid to stay too long, Auror's wouldn't be too far away. Not to mention the Order and/or Whitewands, who wouldn't waste anytime. Whitewands were a huge pain in the ass right now. They seemed to be every where known Death Eaters went. If they were good at one thing though, it was keeping track of them. Again Emilija was glad of her secretive nature in joining. No one really knew she was a Death Eater. Besides, Whitewands really didn't frighten her all that much. “Put it down. As much as you may wish to… prove yourself, it would not be wise to take on someone so much older. Not yet at least.” Ah, yes, more talk. Just what they needed. Let's just keep playing this stupid little game. Stalling is so much fun. Idiot. Oh, so now she sounded like a child inside of her head. And talking to herself didn't make her feel any better. So now she was angry, frustrated, embarrassed and bored. Yes the entire situation was now boring her. She could be somewhere, or with someone else somewhere, doing something much more productive. Oh well, perhaps she would be lucky and they could get out of this sooner rather than later. “Your pathetic, you’re probably three times my age and you still seem worthless to the Dark Lord.” "Mr---I'm sorry I didn't catch your name. You know I don't think your father would appreciate that kind of talk now would he?" A sweet voice spewed from her mouth, sort of a warning but she didn't know if he would catch it. Up until that point Emilija stayed quiet but hearing what he said she knew she had to say something. Well so much for the kid not being an idiot. "What with you being a big, strong Death Eater and all. What would he say if he knew how you were speaking to your elders?" Well she tried her best anything more Paris would know something was up, if he didn't already. “What’s going on!? Oh." Emilija jumped at the girls voice, which she cursed herself for, but she wasn't expecting anyone to join them and as soon as the opportunity arose she closed the door. For the time being at least. Ugh, interruptions just made things worse, a whole lot worse. It stalled more time. Could she just stun them all, maybe let Paris fool around with a few spells then leave? That was all she wanted. “Oh, indeed, little girl. Come on in, sit for a spell. Anyone else coming to disrupt our little party?” "I don't know. do you have anymore of your little friends that are supposed to help you out there? Then again it isn't my fault that you can't do this by your self." "You know what Barron? How about you leave and I can take care of these three myself. What do you want to do, spend an hour just chatting with the little brats. And you," She turned her attention onto Stanley. "I would shut up before you wind up getting yourself into more trouble than you already are. You can stop with the act, we both know you aren't a Death Eater. What exactly do you think you are going to do? You don't have enough power to send the boy..." She gestured to Rafael. "Across the room. And with that head wound you aren't going to do much either, especially with him being a lot older than you, you little twerp. I'm tired of this." She didn't want to kill the damn children but she was getting annoyed enough to hurt them, and that wasn't very good. [[UGGGGHHH. Okay seriously, I hate you all for putting up so many posts. This thing was horrible just because I was all over the place. If you hate me I understand. Oh and Stanley, I hope you don't mind me putting that Emilija knew Stanely was a Potter, I thought it would make it more interesting if she recognized him. I dunno, if you want me to change it I would understand.]] |
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| Capucine Michel | Sep 13 2006, 06:25 PM Post #14 |
la b e l l e fille
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(I know you said you locked the door, but I couldn't resist joining.
 )The gentle rocking of the train in addition to the soft murmur of the engine had put the cabin of Ravenclaw girls to sleep almost immediately. They had been leaning against each other, gossiping and what not, when one by one each of them managed to fall asleep. Capucine had never had any real interest in the Minister of Magic or all that the race for it entailed. She was too young to vote and this wasn’t even her country. It had never been any concern of hers. To her and her friends this was merely a trip away from school to truly enjoy themselves. The young Michel girl was finally beginning to have her own clique, the way it used to be. Curled up on the edge of the bench nearest to the door to the hallway, Cae was the first to hear yells and disarray coming from down the hall. She had been dreaming of something, most likely that pretty boy from the ball. He was all she really thought about these days, which was sad. She had always been a flirt, but never boy crazy. Or at least, she had never been truly smitten with anyone. Nevertheless, her mind was as far away from danger as possible. That was until someone ran by the compartment, bumping into the door. She awoke with a start, suddenly confused by her surroundings. It took her a moment to realize where she was. Standing up slowly, the little blonde girl adjusted her clothing and waited to see if her friends would be waking up. Not one of them even stirred. It was frustrating. In the back of her mind there was that small persting little voice, whispering that something was wrong. She ignored it. Sitting herself back down, she pulled her journal into her lap and began to write. There was no way she would be going back to sleep. And then she heard the soft scream, muffled by the closed door. She closed her journal quickly and stood up, making her way towards the door. Timidly, she pulled it open and let her head peak outside and down the hall. The long cloak and mask were the first thing to catch her eye and at that very moment her heart began to race. She started breathing heavy and grew very claustrophobic. This compartment would not protect her. Her friends were still sleeping, which did nothing to ease her fears. She wanted her brother. He was her best friend, and this was the very moment where she wanted him to be overprotective. Quickly, and practically silently, she slipped out of the cabin and ran down towards the very back of the train, praying to some god that he would be there. This would have never happened back home. She opened one of the first doors she could find and was not welcomed by a single face. That was a lie actually. Rafael, a housemate was there, in addition to the Slytherin Potter boy and some girl from Slytherin. It was the two cloaked figures that caused her to freeze in her spot. “Oh mon Dieu,” left her in an extremely shaky tone. Her eyes traveled from each face as she racked her mind over what to do. |
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| Paris Barron | Sep 17 2006, 03:10 PM Post #15 |
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close › shades & turn » lock
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[ Mmkay. I’ve already asked one person this…but I’ll post it here as well. If you don’t mind Paris attacking you, PM me or say so in your next post. I’m not sure I can hold him back any longer, xD ] "Go screw yourself! We all know how good you are at that." Paris tossed Emilija a cocky smile in response and slowed so that she could catch up to him. Yes, he knew plenty well how to jack off and screw around; Paris was an expert in all things sexually related. But for one annoying reason, Emilija had no firsthand experience to this. It was a huge tragedy that she hadn’t been with him yet and he felt the loss sharply. Why, all you had to do was see her outside of her Death Eater garb and you would easily feel his pain. “Babe, we can screw around all you want after this is done. Trips like these excite me and I could use some company.” He idly twirled his wand in his fingers – the wooden one, that is - as he tried to focus back on the task in front of him, not the one behind him. "Perhaps, though I rather think it is you who is the one in immediate danger." Aghast, he responded in the same quiet tone, “Well talk about your lack of faith in my, ah, wand-waving skills later, darling, okay? As for now, stand guard and keep an eye out.” He issued the second part like an order, nodding his head in the direction of the door they had just entered. It wouldn’t do to be bombarded by a professor or one of those dreaded Whitewands while they were in the middle of bothering precious students. It would only ruin the fun if they were able to remove the innocent and easy targets. Although, there was something about the idea of fighting an actual wizard, not one of these puny pups in training, which excited him. He wished to send a personal message to the Order that said Hey, you guys really suck at protecting your folks. Here’s one of your own, dead, at my will. Suck it. “You think I’m going to listen to some low class scum like you? Get real.” Oh, he was an annoying little brat, wasn’t he? The idea of the boy being fifteen suddenly dropped to him being around ten as Paris looked at him. He was extremely glad this boy wasn’t a real Death Eater or he would have killed him right then and there to save himself, his allies and his Lord the shame of having someone so rotten call himself a Death Eater. Wait, what was he talking about? He could kill the boy for whatever reason he wanted to if he was so inclined to do so. However, Paris had the strong urge to attack people and mutilate them instead of just killing them. Even though it had been his choice to drop out of the Minister of Magic election, he was still a bit bitter about the rumors that had been circulating about him screwing some Hogwarts student and being kicked out of the race instead of dropping out. Like Paris was such a horrible person that the world wouldn’t let him run for Minister – as if! He knew that he had had support among his ranks and that he had continued to run, he might just have won. It was just that stupid Brandon Kohlah and his article that had thrown more suspicion on him then candidates usually received, enough for his ratings to drop. After having seen that, the leader of the Whitewands had also wanted him to drop out thinking that the other supposed Whitewand candidate, Benecia Jonesy, would better be able to represent the group. Because his position as a spy was already wearing thin, he had needed to do what the Whitewand Wizard told him to do even though he got plenty of shit about it from other Death Eaters. If Paris thought hard enough, he could well remember the punishment he’d got for failing to secure the Minister position. “Please, I don’t have to prove any thing… Dark Lord doesn’t believe in your abilities as a follower…Why do you think I’m so young and a Death Eater.” Okay, no more stalling. This brat was going down, and soon. Paris flexed his grip on his wand as he attempted to keep an eye on the students. It was not particularly hard considering they were all stuffed into this little compartment and the two groups were only a few feet apart at the most. Now, Paris was about the rebuke the boy for being so rude when he heard Emilija respond to him first. Her words perplexed him when she mentioned his father, whoever he was. How could she know him but yet he have only a faint inkling of recognizing him? He was her elder by a good ten years, having that much more time in the presence of Death Eaters and pureblooded families. If the brat was the son of someone important in their ranks, then he would know about – oh. Well perhaps that was the problem right there. Paris had already decided that he was not actually related to anyone in the Death Eaters ranks and so his partner may have recognized him from one of her father’s acquaintances. For that matter, it must be someone at the Minister if Paris thought he knew him in some way. He took only a few seconds to address this new addition to the mystery, continually listening to what Emilija was saying. She obviously thought his father was something important if she mentioned him over, say, his mother. The messy hair, the insolent tone… and suddenly, Paris knew who he was and, being who he was, he didn’t bother to hide it. “Don’t mess around with me boy, I’m not a fool.” He hissed, the only hint towards the face that he was no longer up to playing this little game. Holding on the end of his wand, he pointed it at the fool Potter’s head and listed off two simple spells that he hoped would get him result that he liked, “Stupefy, Flipendo!” The first was obviously for practical purposes, attempting to take the boy out of the game and the other was simply for Paris’s urge to cause a little pain. Hopefully the forced somersault would do the boy’s head a little good, maybe making the blood pour even faster. A slight grin curling his lips, Paris started to move towards his supposed victim, hoping that he would now be able to grab the wand out of his hands. It would not due to have possible fighters armed. As he began to move, he let his eyes drift more squarely onto the Ravenclaw and smirked. Let this be a lesson to you, boy. Speaking out gets you no where you want to be. "You know what Barron? How about you leave and I can take care of these three myself. What do you want to do, spend an hour just chatting with the little brats." He had heard what she said before spouting off his curses to the Potter boy but had ignored it. Now he simply looked at her, calming saying, “Too late.” He also gave her a curious look – or as curious a look that could be made with the mask covering the majority of his face – for although he would have been willing to move onto bigger and better targets, he had the odd feeling that Emilija wasn’t…sincere with her words. However, this was Paris we were talking about and although smart, he did not stay with that thought for long. He would let the girl say what she wanted as long as it did not get him into trouble. “Oh mon Dieu,” Then again, a new person joining their little group could get him into trouble if had happened to be an adult and he glared at his supposed partner now, silently compelling the message that she should have been watching the door to her. He glanced at the two boys before taking a second to see who had spoken. It was a girl, perhaps seventeen, whom he felt that he should recognize. This placement was much easier than the Potter kid. Blonde hair, fair skin… she had a distinct resemblance to Lucius Malfoy, Pairs thought, even if he had met him only once. Although, she could not be his daughter, could she? She was far too young and he, far too old. Draco Malfoy had disappeared years ago while Paris was in his seventh year and Hogwarts and so she could not possible be Draco’s daughter either…could she? If she was related to either, Paris simple hoped that she followed their system of beliefs. It would make this attack easier. |
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7:20 PM Nov 26
