It was almost dizzying: how quickly reality returned. One minute you could have twirled and twirled till the ache in your feet went numb and the world began to gyrate without your excessive spinning. The next minute, the sound of someone retching to the right and others falling ungracefully, almost painfully, onto their knees fills your blurry vision as you try to catch your breath. You don’t know what time it is. You don’t know how long it has been. All you know is you’re exhausted. You’re bone-tired; desperate for a seat or a bed to lay down in for a day… Maybe three. But, you can’t get your legs to work properly quite yet. They ache from hours of dancing. One dance that went without end once you began. Eventually, though, you get them to move. Slowly, sorely, making your way back to the castle where a crowd has begun to gather with other students who had made stilted steps towards their dorms.
That’s when you finally hear the hushed whispers. The wretched cries. The biting remarks. You begin to see hands curled into fists and faces pressed into the shoulders of others as comforting hands come to backs. And you can’t begin to fathom why until you see it, too. It’s Filch. Ungracefully nailed to the door in a way that mirrors Xenophillius. Such a sight is enough to cause reality to crash back into you in one shuddering breath. Bringing back your reason to fight, or surging within you another delirious wave of delight.
But not all are quite so thrilled. The three who were looking to make a repeat themselves flick turbulent eyes among the crowd, seeking out the culprit. Alecto thinks she knows first, grasping the arms of Bellatrix and Regulus to steer them in the direction of a too giddy Mulciber. But, right now isn’t a time to ask. They’ll have to corner him later. For now, they cast their eyes downwards in mock sorrow and put steadying hands on their friends who aren’t as well acquainted, or enraptured, with death. For now, they can pretend until Aurors are soon called to the front gates and carry his body away while urging students to get to their beds. Some do, but some are still unable to move. Not for another few minutes. Not until they feel like they can find the will to do anything but cry or fall to their knees in pure anguish.
Everyone is too wrapped in their sorrow, or pleasure, to notice a few unwelcomed presences roaming the halls. Silent shadows tucking themselves deep into the dark corners of these hallowed halls.
The next few days are just as dizzying. They go in a blur. They soak up some of the prior sorrow and return hope — the tiniest amount. A lightness comes back with a single announcement over breakfast the morning following Halloween:
“Argus Filch isn’t dead.”
The Hogwart’s caretaker was merely unconscious when found, on the brink of death, barely breathing. Had they found him an hour later, they would have been stuck with last night’s far more grievous news. Though, the announcement of his recovery is enough to still cause a sliver of alarm among a few of the students and a blinding fury to Mulciber. It stirs an uproar in his dormitory later that evening, too. But all their disgruntled behavior is, too, stamped out when news of Filch’s memories of the kidnapping being blank or fuzzy becomes the talk of the halls. All Filch can clearly recall is being knocked out then dragged over the grounds in a bag. And voices. Several voices. None clear enough to pinpoint an exact person.
This brings back a wave of calm, especially to those who were at that particular meeting and saw that bag. This news also brings back the cold rush of fear along the spines of others, though, and the need for the Order to finally start fighting back.
This meeting has been building for a few weeks — ever since the first murder. But, they wanted time. Begged for it. Time wasn’t on there side, though. It never was. What happened to Filch was proof of that. So, they stopped demanding time. They gave up on it. They set a date for the first meeting instead while they spent their afternoons recruiting. A task that was becoming easier with each new tragedy. Something they wished they could be happy for, but weren’t. Who could be happy that it was sorrow and tragedy that was bringing others to their cause? Yet, isn’t it always tragedy that comes before justice? And there would be justice. They would have their retribution.
No longer was there time to sit on the sidelines. The call to action must be made, and it begins today with little slips of parchment being slid under certain doors. The writing was messy but legible, reading as follows: November 6th. 2:30am. Room of Requirement.
Quite fitting, if you asked some, and motivating, to hold their first meeting where it all began to go wrong this year. Fitting that someone would choose a place of sorrow and turn it into a place of change. A place of rebuilding and revolution.
So, out of bed, many Order members came. Rising not happily, but with purpose. Propelled by all that is good, and the need to put an end to death who has dug its gnarled, bony fingers around the necks of too many. Who has stolen too much joy like a thief who thrives on snuffing out the light that protects children from the horrors of what lurks in the shadows. They rise to gather and, when they do, out of the shadows comes something radiant — for once. Out of the shadows comes a face many have missed, or grew worried over considering the news of Filch, and restores something else deep beneath the ribcage of their weary bones. Order. Out of the shadows comes Dumbledore, plaintive yet serene. Mustering a small amount of something that looks a hell of a lot like hope on his face and a hefty amount of pride. Pride over those gathered who were sacrificing everything for others. And they weren’t here out of fear or obligation, but from a willingness to do good, see good in this world that kept wanting to break people down. He only wished they could be gathered here for better news. But, they weren’t.
Tonight he gathers them with the sole purpose of presenting a mission. “Restore peace,” was his exact words. Which stirs a few snorts and low voiced ‘we know that’ among those in the room. But, he isn’t done. He lifts his hand quietly, patiently. Not an ounce of his belief in them shaken. He only continues on when the room grows quiet again. Quickly informing everyone that his absence had a purpose: he had gained more recruits on an international level. Recruits that were watching the grounds as well as setting up a headquarters somewhere in the castle. A place he wouldn’t speak of for fear of it getting past this room and targetted. But, it was there. They were there. Watching, fighting, and protecting. But, that isn’t all. He has graver knowledge. Knowledge of a possible break-in. Knowledge that the enemy may already be here. In the shadows. Hiding. Waiting. Strikes always came at the perfect moment, after all.
He knows this war has come to Hogwarts itself, and it won’t come without a cost. A deadly price. But, he still hopes that they can try to prevent it. Which means they need to do more. Be more. The Order needs to stop waiting around. It’s time to fight back. Now is the time for more patrols, more eyes, and weeding out who exactly was working for the other side. If they are to put an end to this, they needed to put an end to the students who opposed them. They needed to gain solid proof of wrongdoing and finally start to imprison those who would do harm instead of good.
He informs them then, in a stern warning, that when they leave this room they are to fight for justice. Fight with all they have in them to protect the many and find reason to imprison, not kill, those who would not gift them the same mercy.
Unbeknownst to all others of the meeting that took place the night before, the fourth match of the season has the quidditch pitch packed with blue and green. As well as a scattering of red filliing up a few rows, their mouths agape and shouting obscenities at the team in green while certain golden cloaks are simply happy to catch the next biggest match of the season.
SCORES: Ravenclaw scores 7 times ( Emmeline - 3, Dirk - 2, & Gilderoy - 2). Slytherin scores 5 times ( Alecto - 2, Amycus - 1, Lucinda - 1, & Rabastan - 1). Nobody catches the golden snitch.
BLOCKS: The Ravenclaw keeper blocks 6 attempts at goal, narrowly missing 2 of those blocks and almost falling off their broom once to block a Quaffle. Damon Mulciber blocks 9 attempts at goal, almost narrowly missing one of those blocks.
PENALTIES: Rabastan earns a Haversacking penalty. Amycus & Alecto both earn a Blatching penalty. Additionally, Alecto earns a Cobbing Penalty.
INJURIES: Dirk has received a bruised rib due to Alecto’s elbowing that resulted in a penalty.
FINAL SCORES: Ravenclaw with 70. Slytherin with 50. Ravenclaw wins! The first hard-fought win for Ravenclaw of the season.
OOC INFORMATION CAN BE FOUND UNDER THE CUT.
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