#[plot drop]

Durante uma aula comum, o espaço da sala se altera por alguns segundos. As paredes continuam no lugar, mas os detalhes não coincidem; as janelas mostram uma paisagem diferente, e, por um instante, há outras pessoas ali: alunos e professores que não pertencem àquele castelo, ocupando o mesmo espaço de forma desalinhada. Não são ilusões, são pessoas de verdade, sobrepostas, visíveis o suficiente, mas instáveis demais para que o contato dure por muito tempo. A sobreposição dura pouco e se desfaz sem aviso, devolvendo a sala ao estado original. Depois disso, não há mais como tratar o fenômeno como algo externo ou controlado. Ou seja, o problema já não está apenas fora do castelo, mas está acontecendo dentro dele.

Antes que qualquer explicação seja encontrada, um novo acontecimento toma conta dos três castelos. Quatro figuras atravessam os terrenos de Hogwarts como se aquele lugar já lhes pertencesse e, de certa forma, pertence. Suas presenças não passam despercebidas. Não há necessidade de anúncio ou confirmação: são reconhecidos antes mesmo de qualquer apresentação. Já se viram seus retratos muitas vezes antes.

Godric Gryffindor.

Salazar Slytherin.

Rowena Ravenclaw.

Helga Hufflepuff.

Sua chegada silencia corredores inteiros. Professores interrompem aulas, estudantes observam sua passagem enquanto os fundadores seguem diretamente em direção à direção de cada castelo.

O contato com a direção acontece sem demora. Salazar Slytherin e Helga Hufflepuff conversam com Dumbledore em 1976, Godric Gryffindor com Dumbledore em 1999 e Rowena Ravenclaw com McGonagall em 2026. Eles não oferecem uma explicação completa, mas reconhecem o problema com precisão. Dizem com todas as palavras: aquilo não é uma conexão, mas uma sobreposição. Três estruturas completas tentando ocupar o mesmo espaço ao mesmo tempo, sustentadas por uma magia que não foi feita para manter mais de uma versão da realidade ativa. E, se nada for feito, essa sobreposição não tende a se estabilizar, mas se intensificar.

Depois, os sete se reúnem no gabinete da Diretoria no castelo de 2026, onde eles participam de uma reunião muito comentada e aguardada. Ali, eles estão decidindo o que deve ser feito... E logo irão emitir seu parecer, que pode mudar tudo.

ENCONTROS

1976

Rosmerta Fraser @relicariumtt encontra Daphne Greengrass @etiquettebydaphne de 1999 na sobreposição;

Amos Diggory @crimsvnpeak encontra Helga Hufflepuff nas cozinhas, conversando com os elfos domésticos;

Lucius Malfoy @tthemperor encontra Salazar Slytherin nas masmorras, estudando os corredores e a sala comunal da Sonserina.

1999

Emma Burke @missbombasticz encontra Louis Weasley @lovwexs de 2026 na sobreposição;

Hannah Abbott @habbctt encontra Ophelia Parkinson-Skeeter @opheliaparkinson de 2026 na sobreposição;

George Weasley @amcrtenntia encontra Godric Gryffindor na sede do Clube de Duelos, testando alguns feitiços.

2026

Venus Jagger @bateosino encontra Aaravi Manik @burnitothewick de 1976 na sobreposição;

Nikolina Krum @muffliatc encontra Cordelia Selwyn @musingwithspells de 1976 na sobreposição;

Rose Granger-Weasley @knowitallwitch encontra Rowena Ravenclaw na seção reservada da biblioteca.

INFORMAÇÕES OOC

As pequenas sobreposições acontecem ao longo do dia 30 de setembro, que é quando os personagens se deparam com personagens de outras épocas. O contexto deve ser combinado entre os players (aula, sala, algum outro cômodo, etc, mas precisa ser dentro do castelo!)

Os fundadores aparecem nos castelos dia 31 de setembro e, no final do mesmo dia, se reúnem todos em um só castelo (2026) com todos os diretores.

Os personagens mencionados devem postar um POV contando a experiência (de modo contrário podem ser substituídos). Lembrando que todos os personagens irão participar dos plot drops uma hora ou outra, então se você não foi agora, será questão de tempo!

Vocês podem interagir em flashback se quiserem continuar as interações que começaram antes (só não se esqueçam de interagir no drop também, já que ele é bem importante).

DATA IC: vocês podem interagir entre 30 de setembro (dia das sobreposições) a 03 de outubro (nesses próximos dias os fundadores continuam circulando pelos castelos, sem ainda emitir um parecer, sendo vistos de vez em quando).

Para qualquer dúvidas, minha inbox e dm estão abertas, como sempre!

Seojun had only recently gone off shift, though “off” was a generous term considering he had spent the last several hours buried in files regarding the recent deaths surrounding the town. Patterns. Timelines. Victims. He had learned long ago that violence always left traces behind no matter how carefully people attempted to conceal them. Alongside the investigations, there had also been his encounters with members of the Santoro family. Nothing substantial enough to formally raise concern within the precinct, but enough to remain attentive. One thing Seojun understood well about organized crime was that they rarely operated on the same level as everyone else. They stayed several steps ahead whenever possible. Anticipating that was precisely what made him effective in this line of work.

As for his secondary assignment, Seojun still maintained careful watch over Dulce. His route naturally shifted in the direction of her home. Security cameras remained positioned exactly where he wanted them, each connected to systems he monitored personally. Technology made surveillance effortless these days. Efficient. Quiet. When he could not physically remain near her, he ensured there was always something watching in his place.

Nothing unusual appeared around her home.

And after briefly stopping near her workplace long enough to confirm she was still there, the faint unease lingering within him settled just enough to be ignored.

For now.

His apartment sat only a short distance from the precinct, though reaching it required cutting through the park. As Seojun walked the path, he reverted naturally into observation. It was instinct at this point. He studied people silently--the way they moved, how they interacted, where their attention lingered. Human behavior often revealed more than words ever could. Posture alone could expose confidence, fear, aggression, insecurity. Most people searched instinctively for vulnerability in others. Someone smaller. Easier to overpower. Easier to intimidate. Seojun had never belonged within the category of victim. He was the kind of man people feared once they realized they had miscalculated him.

The vibration of his phone briefly interrupted his thoughts. Pulling it from his pocket, his gaze lowered toward the message on the screen. Hani, unsurprisingly. At this point, he was beginning to suspect she found genuine enjoyment in testing his patience. Earlier, he had sent her a reminder to eat something other than coffee for once in her life. As he continued down the path, a scream suddenly split through the night. Seojun stopped immediately.

It was not the voice itself he recognized but the sound. The pitch. The sharpness within it. Certain sounds embedded themselves permanently into memory after enough exposure, and that particular sound belonged to violence. Fear. The exact moment something terrible had occurred. Strangely, his body reacted faster than thought itself. As though years of conditioning overrode instinct before his mind could fully process it. He had seen countless bodies hit the floor before. Heard the gunfire. Witnessed the aftermath enough times to understand how easily violence reshaped people into something colder. Survival demanded distance. Emotional detachment. Walls thick enough to prevent vulnerability from becoming weakness.

Because weakness was what got people killed.

Memories surfaced in fractured flashes as he moved--the cartel operations, the sound of weapons discharging in enclosed spaces, screams blurring together until they became indistinguishable from one another. Training had taught him to continue functioning regardless of horror standing directly in front of him. So he ran. Without hesitation. He ran toward the sound until he could locate its source.

It appeared he had been too late. Even from a distance, Seojun could already see the two bodies collapsed against the ground. As he approached slowly, his attention sharpened immediately, assessing everything before emotion ever had the chance to interfere. Every detail committed itself to memory automatically--the positioning of the bodies, the blood pattern, disturbed gravel beneath shoes, distance between them. His photographic memory had always served him well within this line of work. It was also a curse. Some things, once witnessed, never truly left you.

His gaze swept the surrounding area carefully, searching for anything else. Signs of struggle. A discarded weapon. Footprints. An escape route. Was the killer still nearby? Had they left something behind in haste? Adrenaline often made people careless after violence. Seojun approached the female first before immediately pulling out his phone and dialing Hani Jeong. “We’ve got a situation,” he stated the moment the call connected. His voice remained firm, controlled, though beneath it lingered restrained anger. He had just missed whoever did this, and now two people were bleeding out in front of him because of it. “Two bodies,” he continued evenly. “One female.” His attention shifted briefly toward the second victim positioned protectively near her. “One male.”

A small nod followed at whatever response Hani provided before Seojun disconnected. He called emergency services immediately afterward, ensuring paramedics were dispatched without delay. If even one life could still be saved tonight, that alone mattered.

The next number he dialed belonged to Zahir Cole. “There’s been another attack,” Seojun informed him without preamble, immediately providing the location and surrounding area. “Female victim. Multiple stab wounds to the lower abdomen. Shallow breathing. Paramedics are on the way.” His gaze lowered once more toward her condition. Barely breathing. Not enough time. He would need to intervene himself until medical personnel arrived. “Male victim,” he continued calmly. “Lower abdominal stab wound. Significant blood loss. Lacerations across the hands consistent with defensive wounds.” A brief pause followed as his eyes moved across the darkness surrounding the scene once more. “another murder,” he concluded quietly. “I’m first on scene.”

Federal agent or detective, perspectives often differed depending on jurisdiction and procedure. Still, mutual understanding existed between people who dedicated their lives to this kind of work. Respect formed naturally through shared experience alone. “You need to head over,” Seojun finished simply before ending the call.

His attention returned toward the male victim afterward. The positioning alone revealed enough. Protection. Even while dying, the man had attempted to shield the woman beneath him. Blood loss suggested he had crawled significant distance despite the severity of his injuries just to reach her. Selfless. Even in death.Seojun’s jaw tightened subtly.

Not from grief. From principle. Innocent blood had been spilled tonight. And that unsettled something dangerous within him.

He called Hani once more moments later. “We’re going to need timelines on everyone tonight,” he stated firmly. If organized crime involvement existed behind this, they needed confirmation quickly. And when matters involved the Mafia, Hani remained one of the few people Seojun trusted enough to speak openly with regarding it.

By the time paramedics arrived, the scene erupted into controlled chaos. Medical personnel moved quickly toward the female victim, establishing IV access while stabilizing her for transport into the ambulance. Seojun answered procedural questions automatically, efficiently, though his attention continuously drifted back toward the scene itself.

Everything else faded into background noise. sirens. flashing red and blue lights. voices moving around him. none of it held his focus.

Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the blood staining the pavement where life had existed moments earlier. Nearby, spilled mango and strawberries had scattered across the ground, crushed into the concrete beside the crimson spreading outward. Slowly, Seojun lifted his gaze toward the sky. Sunset had disappeared entirely now, consumed by darkness. What an awfully painted picture death had woven tonight. People feared the dead far too often. The living were always worse. And somewhere out there, the person responsible still believed themselves safe.

That mistake would not last long.

-----------------

Acacia and Emmett - On an abnormally cold evening for Lucrece, Acacia and Emmett wake on separate ends of campus at 3am. Above them looms a smiling blonde woman who they can’t help but feel as if they’ve met before. Her presence is soothing, but there’s something strange behind her eyes. They wake again in the morning to find she was nothing but a dream, but they can’t shake how real she had seemed or how badly they wanted to see her again. 

(Motivation: Virginia didn’t seek these two out. As she attempts to make her way back to the mortal realm on the fifth anniversary of her death, she is drawn to them like a moth to a flame. A High Priestess needs her coven, and power recognizes power.) 

Tillie - Retreating from St. Joan’s and her roommate, Tillie camps out on DuPont Hall’s lawn with her newly acquired transistor radio. The only channel it seems to be able to reach in the middle of the night is on a Dave Clark Five marathon, and she’s almost grateful when the music shuts off before the machine starts talking to her.  “Hello Charlotte,” a voice, warm like honey, calls out to her. In a moment of fear, Tillie shuts the radio off. It turns itself back on and the voice doesn’t sound quite as warm. 

(Motivation: Virginia sees a bit of herself in Charlotte, the two both committed to their own greatness. Virginia knows just how seductive, and corrupting, power can be. What she’s really looking for in this endeavor is a new right hand (wo)man.) 

Natalia - It was late and Natalia couldn’t sleep. Restless to move but unwilling to put on shoes, she takes to pacing the floors of St Joan’s and ends up following the overwhelming, nearly cloying, scent of lilacs and petrichor to the far-end of the fourth floor, to a single window inexplicably covered in fog. Before her eyes, a large circle is drawn in the pane.  Something, someone, screams her name and the window shatters. With the fog cleared, she can see now that whatever it was wanted her attention on Dr. König’s cottage in the far distance. 

(Motivation: Virginia is smart enough to know that she cannot explicitly direct any of the students to Dom’s house, or tell them what it is that she wants that’s inside. Virginia is reliant on Natalia’s audacity to get her, and the others, inside of the cottage.)

Dae - Dae had made a mistake. As smart as he was, the excitement of recent weeks had led him to forget an upcoming essay on German philosophers … which was due when the sun came up. He had expected the cramped basement of the library to be empty, certainly at this hour everyone else had already realized they’d forgotten about the essay. Instead, where he went looking for Kant, he found a towering, nearly translucent blonde woman who seemed to have been waiting for him. 

(Motivation: Virginia is something of a predatory spirit and she can smell the grief on Dae, and she seeks to use that to her advantage. After all, Dae has questions and she has answers.) 

Eve - Eve, once again aggravated with her roommate, goes to write her 20th diary entry about the fact. What should’ve been a blank page is instead filled with a nearly illegible message, warning Eve to stay away from her French professor, lest she suffer the consequence of getting too close. To make matters worse, it seems no one else can see the writing on the page … or the next one as the entries keep coming.

(Motivation: Eve is obsessed with her man. Virginia doesn’t believe death annuls a marriage. While Virginia may be seeking to turn the others into followers, Eve has already landed herself on her bad side.) 

Meredith - Meredith had returned to her dorm late, with the sound of her roommate’s snores filling the dark room. Satisfied with the light of the moon, she made her way to her bed, dropping her shoes, bag, and clothes behind her. She had expected her mattress to be soft, instead something had been buried under her blanket. Retrieving the object, she found a strange book in what appeared to be a fictitious language. What was most strange was that Meredith could read it, finding its contents concerned with communicating with the dead. 

(Motivation: This is a bit of power transference from Virginia to Meredith, because the eventual object they’re stealing from Dom’s house is written in the same language. Virginia senses an overconfidence in Meredith that will keep her from being too interested in this book’s warning section.)