do the stars sing?

“mr. derrick, i’m assuming that whatever you’re disturbing ms. dunn with is pertinent?” flitwick’s voice cut through their small talk, imperious. derrick straightened up, and shrugged. other students turned and looked at them, curious. “just flirting, professor.” he shot a small smile at elora again, and flitwick mumbled something about lost causes and lost house points. derrick did not mind much, and when flitwick got his back turned again, his attention went to elora once more. he copied in his sloppy handwriting whatever notes she put down on his own parchment, without much subtelty. flitwick had probably been surprised to see him again this year, derrick barely passed the tests, and was getting by with what seemed sheer luck. and malcolm dedicated time and efforts to a greater cause.

“now you’re just being mysterious,” he whispered, made no effort as to listen to the wizard in front of the class as he leaned to elora once again. “you always say that and you end up with cool stories.” well, maybe during class wasn’t the right moment to ask about elora’s general condition. that he did not really think about. on the subject of anything new with him, he just shrugged. barely asked her have you seen lucian much since school started? because that was a question he kept repeating in his head. because his own reply to it would be a small, timid not enough.

“you have some tutoring this weekend? we could go for a walk or something.” what prompted him to ask her was probably just loneliness and the urge to not do any schoolwork. he was not a good influence if he thought about it. but maybe she’d speak freely then and if he kept inside the castle, his head would probably burst. “i can even make it very romantic. some candles and …food?” he wondered where he’d get food and smuggle it outside without being seen. still, derrick liked to tease her.

elora sat rigid in her chair, her eyes opened wide while she stared at the table and hoped professor flitwick wasn’t too mad at her. “i was just--” she started to say with the intention of sparing perry of a scolding when he replied on his own, his words setting her face on fire. “peregrine!” she chided him in a whisper, glaring at him scornfully. why did he do these things to her? god, she adored him, but he could be a brat when he wanted to. 

watching the professor walk away, she sighed in relief as she moved her notes closer to her friend. she had taken more care than usual with them, adding tidbits of information that she already knew but that peregrine would find helpful. “ah, yes, i’m the queen of mystery” she said sarcastically under her breath, having lost some of the calm she had had when he had first sat down. 

“oh, i’d love that” she said sincerely, a small smile brightening her features. spending time with perry had become one of her favourite moments of the week. it amazed how even though she hated being outdoors, she was more than willing to spend hours under a tree if she was with him. “we should enjoy the nice weather while it lasts.” winter could be rough in the scottish highlands. 

October 27, 1994

Second floor

Closed: @eloramora

Smoking right after breakfast probably wasn’t the greatest thing ever, but Alistair had gotten a rather short letter from his father and those always sent his anxiety spiraling from zero to eighty in seconds. So he’d stuffed himself into a window nook protected by a spiraling staircase, and was exhaling out the open window, cool air biting against his skin.

As soon as he heard footsteps he quickly snubbed the cigarette out and was preparing to flick it out the window, except he wasn’t fast enough. Elora rounded the corner, her eyes puffy and red. 

Alistair blinked. “… having a pleasant morning, Elora?” he said lamely, extinguished cigarette in one hand, dry red around his own eyes thanks to the letter and nicotine. 

elora was not having a good day. if this had been in first year, she’d have asked herself when did she actually have a good day. however, this was her seventh and last year, and even she was able to see how things had changed: while she was still harassed and still cried due to basically anything, the hufflepuff could easily acknowledge that “good days” were much more common nowadays. nevertheless, today was not one of them.

she just couldn’t catch a break, could she? she had been minding her business, as she usually was; she hadn’t asked for this! she never did. why couldn’t they-- she stopped dead in her tracks. it was only because of alistair’s sudden appearance that she was unable to continue wallowing in self-pity (and wasn’t that fortunate?).

she gasped almost imperceptibly, putting one hand over her chest a tad melodramatically. considering for how long she had nursed that beyond embarrassing crush on him, elora felt almost proud at the lack of colouring on her cheeks. “oh, alistair, good morning” she replied weakly, trying to erase any trace of her crying (she knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop her). “you... shouldn’t be smoking” her voice was so quiet and meek that it wouldn’t be surprising if he wasn’t able to understand her (or even hear her).

she giggled at the remark about the foreign girls. “ooh, the french girls. merlin, they’re gonna be beautiful, aren’t they?” she asked with a little hum, hearts practically swirling in her eyes at the very thought of it.  “hey, hey, hey. calm down.” tamsin assured. “i mean, i’ve been thinking about it, i won’t lie to you but… i dunno. i mean, part of me just wants to see if i would be able to do it, you know? like if i’d be the one dumbledore picks or however it works but… i mean on the other hand do i actually want to go through with the whole competition?” she sat up, crossing her legs and facing elora. “yeah, i think that’s it. i just wanna get picked but i don’t actually wanna do it.”  she placed her hand on her friends knee, giving a slight affectionate squeeze. “even if i entered, i doubt i’d get picked. i’m too much of a troublemaker.” 

how do you ignore someone else’s panic ? you worry only about yourself. from a young age, glynis was taught that the person she should care for most was herself, above family and above — is it right ? no, not at all, but taught behaviors are hard to unlearn. elora says there’s nothing to be read in the book but her words go unbelieved. the slytherin’s head is ducked over the open book, her body and the diary angled away from elora, and her hair falls down towards the side of her face. she isn’t really reading — she’s skimming mostly, but she’s immensely fascinated. “ elora — ” glynis sounds scandalized. she’s still poring over the diary. everything she reads send a little bit of a shiver through her. she’s excited, she’s thrilled. her first instinct is to mock elora, to say that the crush is silly and childish — and to write it all down ? ridiculous — but she’s quiet, still reading. this may very well be the most exciting part of her day, moreso than the announcement of the arrival of the foreign students, moreso than any of her classes. “ this is — ” the word doesn’t come. pathetic, embarrassing. the choices are endless. instead, though, a thought crosses through glynis’ mind and she straightens up where she sits. she feels her expression soften, her eyes brightening, a smile tugging at her lips. “ this is so sweet. ” her voice is saccharine, sickly sweet. she sounds honest, and it’s frightening to even herself. the thought strikes her: what is she doing ? in truth, she’s unsure. it’s the beginning of a brand new game, one where she can’t see the ending to yet. “ i would have never guessed that you feel that way. ” she closes the diary and pushes it back towards elora. she rests her elbow on her table and leans her head on her hand. “ tell me more, miss elora, what exactly are your feelings ? ”

she could feel her heart in her throat and the cold sweat that was already running down her back. why was god so cruel to her? (did she believe in god? was god magic? those were questions that she, and many other muggleborns, consciously avoided thinking but cropped up every once in a while in the worst of moments) how many times had she imagined glynis saying her name, yet the moment in which she actually did was such a nightmare? that was what she got for trying to write in her journal in public, wasn’t it? how many times did she have to tell herself to be more careful? 

however, while she had been dreading to hear what the other one thought about what she had written, the silence that followed was much, much worse. she couldn’t breath, she was paralysed, only able to watch the other girl’s expression, but being too flustered to properly interpret it. 

she blinked once, twice, thrice, and still she couldn’t believe what had just happened. had glynis just called her sweet? well, not her exactly, but the end result was the same: elora was almost too shocked to react. the slytherin’s sudden close proximity did not help either. her cheeks colouring an intense red, she babbled incomprehensibly for a few seconds. “i-i’m sorry?” she finally articulated, feeling as if she was suddenly in a parallel reality. “i-i-i don’t--” what was she supposed to say? the truth? she couldn’t lie now, could she? glynis had already caught a glimpse of her innermost thoughts. “i’mreallysorryireallyfancyyouohgodi’msosorry” wow, elora, classy.

“hope you’re not serious, though. yellow is really not my colour.” he might do an exception for her, though. though, what it did entail, derrick did not know. they didn’t even peep at the cup yet, still unrevealed. so much mystery! so much suspense! “absolutely not. i don’t have time for that.”

derrick was already tired; of the tournament and it hadn’t even started yet. it was too much excitement, in a poorly chosen moment in his existence. everything was weird with lucian, pressure was on for his n.e.w.t.s. (still did not understand why as everyone knew he was going to fail and probably end up jobless and homeless at the sweet age of eighteen), he got into fucking art club on a whim. he wished he could just go through everything drunk. numb.

flitwick’s voice cut through his overwhealming thoughts and after a few minutes, gave them the assignment for the current class. derrick had no interest of doing it and instead turned to the small girl next to him, chin in hand. “were you just worried about dear old me, elora? you’ll make me blush.” watching her hand write was kind of soothing, and he wondered how it came to be that elora calmed him, or just grounded him to something more tangible. he faked taking his quill and writing when flitwick passed near them; he wouldn’t want to cause her trouble. “what’s new with you? you gained some inches yet?” he whispered, head low so that only her could hear him. perry was indeed curious as to how elora was going, they didn’t quite catch up yet, though school started not more than a month ago. he wasn’t the most social. mocking her height just gave him a reason to ask, though the admission would never ever leave his mouth.

“that’s the real reason the hat chose slytherin for you,” she joked lightly, her eyes finally going back to the front of the class. however, even if she looked to be paying attention, elora had no idea what professor flitwick was talking about, she was too busy being beyond relieved. thank god perry had more sense than some of the other students; the hufflepuff was more than aware of the fact that she wouldn’t survive watching him risk his life for a stupid cup.

hard as she tried there simply was no avoiding the colouring of her cheeks at his comment. while she wouldn’t say she was embarrassed at being caught caring for him, as she somewhat suspected would be his case were their positions inverted, she couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered. “of course i was worried, you oaf,” she complained under her breath, avoiding his gaze. “i don’t want you to die horribly, is that so hard to believe?” no one would believe that it was indeed meek elora dunn reacting in such a way. to be honest she herself could hardly believe the way she spoke whenever perry was around.

Though Benjamin had only arrived a few minutes early, he was still anxiously glancing at his watch. He waited only a few moments before Elora turned the corner, looking a bit worse for wear as she leaned against the wall. “Elora, relax. You’re a minute early,” he said, a gentle hand falling on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s just been a long week, hasn’t it?” he asked, his melodic laugh echoing through the hallway to mask her heavy breathing. 

“We can take a few more minutes if you need to,” he said, his voice soft. He didn’t mind; even if he was head boy, he knew that rounds could wait a few minutes. “How’s the rest of your day been?” he asked, wondering if a distraction was all the girl needed. 

the tension left her body when she heard she was not, in fact, late. the thought of ben, or anyone really, waiting for her or being inconvenience in any way because of her upset her perhaps a bit too much (but, to be fair, what didn’t?) and to hear that she hadn’t was a relief. she sighed now a bit more relaxed and when his hand gently reached for her shoulder, she didn’t even flinch. 

the left corner of her mouth moved slightly upwards in an awkward half-smile and she nodded, agreeing with him. it had been a long week and she could not be happier that it was over (even if the tournament was looming over her and preventing her from really enjoying the weekend).  “oh, nonono, i’m okay, really, we can start patrolling, i don’t want to make us late, really,” she quickly said. even if she appreciated how kind he was (and sometimes she felt he was overtly so with her, she didn’t deserve it), she took her duties as a prefect very seriously. 

she pursed her lips at his question, thinking about how tiring and never ending her day had seemed. “oh, it was alright.” ben didn’t actually want to hear about her day, she was sure. he was just being nice, as always. “how about yours? is being a head boy everything you had dreamed of?” she joked lightly.

date: 23rd October location: library company: closed starter for @eloramora

While no one who saw her walking in could say that Patricia was running,she definitely moving through the place a bit faster than usual, only seeming to relax when she spotted Elora in one of the chairs. “Hey.” It could be a little silly, but their weekly meeting caused a burst of happiness in her, in a simple and hard-to-explain way. It wasn’t like Elora and Patricia were friends outside the book-covered walls, but it was fun thinking about having an extra friend, even if it was in a closed space and time. “Sorry I came late. There was a group of excited first years talking about the Tournament who were blocking the entrance.” Setting her books in the side of the table in front of Elora, Patricia allowed herself a moment to catch her breath, before realizing that she might be sounding a little too clingy. ”I mean, I know that we never really agreed to meet here, but I guess that after a few weeks I got used to it. Don’t feel like you actually have to be here though, I consider it more like a happy coincidence.”

elora blinked rapidly, raising her hands and shaking them slightly in front of her, as if her incomprehensible gesture would calm patricia down. “n-no, i mean, y-yes, i mean, it is a happy coincidence!” she finally managed to say, too flustered to be coherent. it felt absurdly nice to know she wasn’t the only one who considered them studying almost every friday a unspoken agreement. “d-don’t worry about being late, really.” she honestly hadn’t been waiting for that long and, even if she had been, she was used to being alone and so it wouldn’t have been much of a bother. “and oh, yes, everyone has gone a bit crazy with the whole tournament thing. sounds a bit scare, doesn’t it?”

panting and harsh breathing could be heard being echoed against the tall ceilings of the corridor. seconds later, elora arrived, clearly being the origin of all of these sounds, with her face incredibly red and her heart pounding. 

“oh, hi, ben, i didn’t see you there, sorry. am i late? i’m so sorry,” she weakly said once she saw her fellow prefect, leaning against one of the walls to catch her breath. the paintings beside her looked at the hufflepuff with pity, clicking their tongues and shaking their heads. “i am so tired. i know i shouldn’t complain, but, oh, jesus, what a long day. and there was the party.” with the tone with which she said it, one would think she was speaking of something beyond terrible. “i’m so sorry for being late, really.”

“They’re French, Elora. They’re not going to be nice.” Lucian was well aware that what he was doing counted rather solidly as whining, but in all of the years of bullshit the castle had put him through he’d never been faced with Frenchmen. “They’re going to mock people’s accents and whine about the food, and when they’re done with that they’re going to strut around like a bunch of dandy, concussed peacocks. And those will be the good ones.” 

He did appreciate Elora’s sympathy about the Quidditch season though, knowing it wasn’t exactly her sort of hobby. Maybe he’d have to knit something yellow again and scare a first year into dropping it off in her dorm, if only so that he could stop feeling like he owed her. People weren’t supposed to owe kindness, were they? “That’s an idea– we could do it unofficially even if McGee says no, couldn’t we? It’d be a good start to a party, if nothing else.”

“now you’re not being nice!” she chastised him with all the anger a crup puppy could muster (which is to say: an adorably small amount). considering elora had never met a french person before, she knew she didn’t have any proof to argue that he was wrong and, as it was often the case, when confronted with such an adamant argument, it was hard for her not to feel convinced. “i’m sure they won’t be like that?” she phrased as a question, completely uncertain of what she was saying.   

while she didn’t feel like encouraging him to drink alcohol (which by now knew was the real reason behind all of these parties), she did feel inordinately pleased at having him praise her simple idea. “you should definitely do it! i’m sure it’d be fun. i think perry and tamsin would be happy to participate!” she enthused with a bright smile. “they play quidditch at beauxbatons and durmstrang, i’m sure” she added, completely butchering the names of the schools and cringing when she heard herself. “oh, jesus, i won’t be able to pronounce any of their names, will i?” another thing to feel anxious over, just what she needed.

when: october 23rd, 1994 where: the hufflepuff girls dorm  who: @eloramora

it was with a spin, a dramatic sigh, and a soft thump that tamsin found herself dropping into elora’s bed. laying on her back and staring up at the warm yellow canopy above them. “do you think any cute girls will be coming? for the tournament, i mean.” she hummed a little. “i mean, of course no one as adorable as you my dear but… you know-” she sighed wistfully. “i’m sure there will be plenty of cute boys too.” she teased, reaching to poke playfully at elora’s hip.  she turned towards elora, a small smile tugging at her lips - a side effect of whenever she looked at her best friend - and hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “do you think you’ll enter?” 

elora giggled under her breath at her dear friend’s dramatic gestures, finding her extremely charming (as she often did no matter what she was doing). she moved her legs to make space for her and put them against her chest, leaning her head over them as she listened to tamsin. 

the unease at the thought of the tournament hadn’t yet disappeared, but her friend’s lightheartedness helped her relax a little. she blushed at the comment, kicking her softly with her socked foot. “i’m sure there’ll be plenty of pretty girls. foreign pretty girls, just your type,” she joked lightly. to be honest, she had little interest in other boys since her heart (misguided as it usually was) was set on a certain slytherin at the moment, though she felt too ashamed to talk about it yet.  

she flinched slightly at her sudden question; of all the things tamsin could have said, that was the last thing she would have expected. “me? enter?” she asked incredulously. “of course not! why? are you?” it was clear in her distressed tone that the mere idea had her already panicking. 

Riley felt a small wave of guilt as he saw Elora jump at his voice— he couldn’t blame her, given her history at Hogwarts. Deciding at the flush in her cheeks to move past it and act as though he hadn’t noticed anything, Riley leaned in slightly so as to hear her better. Elora had a quiet voice, dimmed even further by the noise of the crowd around them, but he always tried to hang on to each word whenever they spoke. He wanted to make it clear to Elora that she was worth listening to, since that was something he knew she didn’t always believe. 

“Nah, it’s not. ‘Course, they’d probably have trouble keeping up with the tournament and everything if they didn’t speak some English, so I expect it’ll be varying degrees. What language do they even speak at Durmstrang? Does anyone know?”

as always, she felt both embarrassed by and incredibly grateful because of riley’s gesture of lowering his head slightly so as not to lose her voice in the cacophony around them. watching him listen to her intently, she felt undeserving of his friendship and a warm feeling bloomed inside her chest (at the same time as that ever present self-doubt made itself known —she shouldn’t be bothering him with her uninteresting conversation). “i think helen said it was bulgarian? but i’m not sure. i could be wrong. don’t they sound scary though? aren’t they super fans of the dark art and... hate muggleborns?” her voice by the end of her question was so quiet, it wouldn’t be surprising if riley was unable to understand her. 

date: october 23rd location: charms class availability: closed to @eloramora

he left lucian a few moments ago, having to run for his charms class. he barely made it with more than few minutes to spare. the class was, as usual, especially full. instead of making it to his usual spot within the slytherin group, derrick took the free space next to elora dunn, in the back of the class. flitwick sent him a glare, and derrick remembered how the man did ask him to care a bit more, and try to be more on time. well … he wasn’t late, today. That was a first, right?

And really, who could blame him, when the corridors had been full of lightheaded fools talking about the upcoming visit to Hogwarts and the whole tri-wizard tournament. usually, he could run the corridors in a few minutes and still make it within a reasonable amount of time. but today, today was especially hectic. “ms. dunn, you mind if i sit here?” though he was indeed asking for permission, he was already taking his stuff from his bag, his notes in disarray. he tried to make something out of them, organize them in some sort of fashion that would not make him look too dumb to elora, but, once again, failed miserably. there was then just a pile of notes in front of him and the sudden desire to make something out of it just escaped him within seconds.

he turned his attention to the hufflepuff next to him, at her very organized notes and smiled at her. weirdly, this friendship had been a somewhat interesting discovery from last year. derrick did not think he would have liked lucian’s potion tutor that much, but elora seemed to be able to hold her ground when pushed the right way. and she was curiously very skilled in the art of making derrick’s favourite sweets, so …gaining his interest and …friendship hadn’t been so hard. “so, you’re going to put your name into the cup?”

elora loved charms. she really did. she also really liked professor flitwick; if the hat hadn’t been so adamant about her belonging in hufflepuff, she supposed she wouldn’t have minded being a ravenclaw with him as her head of house. of course, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed the mere fantasy, thinking to herself that she has nowhere near as smart as one needed to be to wear blue and bronze. shaking her head, she told herself she was lucky enough to be part of hufflepuff. but going back to charms: she loved the subject, she did. unlike in d.a.d.a and in transfiguration, she didn’t feel as much as a failure when she struggled, since she didn’t actually struggle at all. the spells came easy to her, almost instinctively. for a muggleborn who many times had wondered if she belonged in the castle, the ease with which she could change someone’s hair colour or cast fire out of her wand was a great relief. what she didn’t like about charms was... well, everything else about the class, really. to be fair, she had the same problem with every class except for ancient runes: there was way too many people looking at her, or so she felt. her back was stiff and her head slightly tilted forwards, eyes on the book on her desk even if there was nothing to read. 

however, every now and then there was something that managed to soften the crease between her eyes and that allowed her to breathe a bit more easily. this time it was peregrine’s strangely comforting presence. strangely because a couple of years ago she would have never imagined she could feel so comfortable around a slytherin; yet the pureblood had wormed himself into her heart without her noticing —not that she was complaining (even if his antagonism against cedric did make her feel a bit conflicted).

she couldn’t stop a small yet bright smile from blossoming when he used his familiar nickname for her and she nodded minutely at his question, though she knew she didn’t have much of a choice (not that she minded). as he tried to tidy up his things, she watched him from the corner of her eye with a fond expression on her face; she couldn’t even be mad at him for arriving late as he always did. 

“ if i’m being honest, i’d say i don’t quite believe you, ” she says, her voice not losing its sing-song quality. she puts the book down, tapping her fingers on top of it, before glancing around. it seems that none of the other hufflepuffs have noticed glynis’ presence — if they have, they’ve said nothing. elora’s becoming upset doesn’t bother glynis. if anything, it fuels her. “ you know, i used to journal, too. i was never serious about it though. i’d write a few lines here and there, but nothing consistent and certainly nothing i’d want to look back on in five or even ten years. just the sort of thing like there was a quidditch game today or this is the outfit i wore and how i wore it, ” she hums, her nose wrinkling. “ really, it was all trivial. nothing too special. ” she picks up the book, opening it to the first page. “ tell me, are you the sort to write every little nitty-gritty detail and thought ? or do you write vague notes ? i think you’re the former. ” finally, after what seems like ages, she picks up the book, flipping through the pages until she lands on one in the middle. she skims the page, mostly disinterested until — glynis. she sees her name written on the pages and she stares at elora, her own eyes widening. “ what all have you written about me ? tell me, or i’ll read it myself ! ”

elora was sure it was physically impossible for her heart to beat any faster. her hands were sweating and her vision was blurry due to the unshed tears in her eyes; she felt on the verge of a panic attack. however, she was also somewhat amazed at herself for being able to utter words in her state: “i-i-i swear i’m not lying, really. please, g-give it back” never had she felt so pathetic and, boy, had there been plenty of moments where she had felt beyond embarrassed in her short life. her hands inched closer to her journal and yet she was too much of a coward to snatch it away. “nothing, glynis, nothing!” she was a terrible liar and she knew it, but she couldn’t do much more than that at the moment; she was paralysed at the thought of the slytherin reading everything she had written about her, from her (at first) platonic appreciation of her appearance to the overly detailed account of how their hands had accidentally touched last tuesday. as always, she found herself wishing for someone to come help her but, as it often happened, nobody came to her rescue. 

WHEN: october 23rd, 1994 WHERE: the great hall WHO: @eloramora

there is a sort of organized chaos to the great hall this evening. with the news of the arriving schools, students of all houses have begun to mix with one another, talking to their friends of their excitement for the new persons but also the tournament itself. glynis would be a liar to say she isn’t slightly intrigued. she has no one to speak to at any other table ( her closest friends and confidantes are, thankfully, slytherins ) but she does scan the room. nothing catches her attention except — her eyes land on a dark-haired girl at the hufflepuff table, her head ducked over a book, a quill in hand. glynis’ interest is piqued and, with one last glance around, she stands up from the slytherin table and heads over to the hufflepuffs. she slides into the empty seat beside elora, quiet for a second, before reaching for the now-obvious diary. she closes it but holds it in the hand furthest from the other girl. “ what have you got here, elora ? ” her tone is sing-song. she looks like the cat who ate the canary. “ any juicy gossip for me to read ? any secrets ? ”

the excitement had been practically palpable from early in the morning and elora’s nervousness even more so. all of the hum and buzz in her common room and now in the great hall had her frazzled to say the least; not for the first time, she was regretting having agreed to meet with tamsin here instead of somewhere quieter. sadly it was too late to do anything about it and so there she was, trying to distract herself by writing in her journal and purposefully not staring at a particular slytherin. of course she had noticed her as soon as she had entered the great hall, whenever did she not? it was this fixation with seeming as if she didn’t even know she was there that made her not even be aware of her presence beside her until she took her journal from her. for a couple of seconds, she didn’t even understand what was going on, the actions too sudden and like something she’d had lived in a nightmare to be real. when she finally did, her eyes opened almost comically while her face lost all colour, making her look paler than the grey lady. “glynis! it-t-’s nothing, r-really, nothing that’d you c-care about, i swear, not that i’d say i have any say on what you care about, b-but really, it’s all boring stuff, p-please give it back.” her voice was high and desperate, tears already forming in the corners of her eyes.

when: 23 october, 7:45pm where: outside the great hall whomst: open

Riley stepped back from the sign after reading it, politely maneuvering his way out of the crowd and up onto the marble staircase. The mob of students trying to read the sign was so thick, he knew he’d have trouble trying to get past them to the great hall. The excitement, however, was enough to take his mind off his hunger for the time being. While Riley was certainly nervous about this terror of a tournament, he was rather looking forward to meeting students from other wizarding schools. 

“What do you reckon they’ll be like? The foreign students, I mean,” he asked, turning his attention to a familiar face nearby.  

at the sudden noise of her friend’s voice, elora flinched a tad too violently, gasping with surprise and placing one hand on her chest. seconds later her face coloured, a pink shade covering her cheeks and neck as realisation washed over her. “oh, riley, hi,” she tried to smile, still a bit too embarrassed by her exaggerated reaction to do so successfully. “i hope they’ll be nice at the very least.” as always, her voice was almost too quiet to be heard and the cacophony around them did not help. “oh, do you think they’ll speak english? ah, that’s a dumb question, isn’t it?” 

WHEN: 23rd October WHERE: Dungeon hallways, near Potions class WHO: Open

“Have we really got to put up with a whole new lot of dumbfucks descending upon us?” Lucian scowled, though the effect of the expression was rather lessened by the purring of the black-and-white cat in his arms. He scritched the cat’s ears without changing his demeanor at all, still focused on the person in front of them. “If they’re the sort to leave their schools for the year, then no one wants them– why the bloody hell are they worth cancelling Quidditch over?

“well.” elora started saying, with that teacher-like air she unconsciously put on whenever lucian was being... difficult. “i’m sure they’re all very nice, lucian. and doesn’t it sound interesting? having people from other schools around?” personally, it sounded to elora like a complete nightmare. even more people around? yeesh. feeling a bit too nervous by only thinking about it, she put a hand on top of achilles’ head, petting him softly to calm herself. “it is kind of sad they cancelled quidditch though, i’m sorry you couldn’t have one last game.” and she really was. while she had barely set foot on the pitch throughout all of the years she had been there, she knew how disappointed most people were (especially tamsin) and rightly so. “maybe you guys can have a match between schools? if mcgonagall allows it?” she proposed halfheartedly.

a letter my muse would write to yours